Corvus Black
by Firazh
Summary: What could be worse than a nightmare? Waking up to discover that it was reality, of course. But after finding out Bellatrix was his mother, discovering that the Death Eater who fathered him was Severus Snape almost came as a relief. Deciding to take up his real identity was easy enough ... actually living it, not so much. AU: After fifth year. Sevitus with a twist.
1. Rude Awakenings

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements are gleefully borrowed from J. K. Rowling. They should really be used to it by now. Although Harry Potter may feel more than usually abused by who his parents turn out to be _this_ time ...

oOoOoOoOo

Harry Potter was dreaming. In his dream, he had been wandering around the ominously silent house, the silence only broken by his own shuffling steps and soft breathing, and the occasional faint creak of old wood settling. It was so quiet that he imagined he could hear the spiders shuttling about. Slowly making his way through empty rooms he had finally come to the library, where the books whispered the night away, softly talking amongst themselves with their dry, fluttery pages.

A pool of light had drawn his attention to the Black family tapestry hanging on the wall between the two bow windows, the candles around it dancing and pooling in melted wax and alternatively casting light and shadows over the golden edged embroideries. A curious impulse had pulled him over. The old thing was full of unpleasant names, and one that reminded him of his own guilt and loss. Sirius Black. Died on the 18th of June, 1996. Died because of Harry Potter's inability to keep Voldemort out of his head.

Helpless tears ran down his face as he stared at the name, guilty feelings twisting his inside into knots. Harry felt like his heart was breaking in anguish. He heard a clock strike a measured twelve strokes. They fell like the strokes of doom. Midnight. It was his birthday now. He should go and find a window to let Hedwig in. But even as he started to turn away, his eyes were arrested by movement. A spot on the tapestry was rewriting itself before his tear-filled eyes, stitches appearing by magic. He felt transfixed as he watched with an increasing feeling of horror.

There was a new name there now. Corvus Black. Born on the 31st of July, 1980. Still alive. Harry's breath caught. His eyes traced the line of descent upwards. Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black. Bellatrix had a son. A son who had been born on the same day as himself, and who was still alive, according to the tapestry. His hands raised involuntarily, and touched his hair. His hair, which had suddenly grown longer and felt all curly. He lifted a strand. Curly and even darker than it used to be. His eyes met his own in a mirror that had appeared out of nowhere. Black eyes met terrified black eyes gazing back at him.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry Potter came awake with the start of a scream on the couch in the sitting room, where he had fallen asleep reading a book. There was an insistent pecking noise coming from the window, and a flutter of wings as several owls tried to get his attention. He went and let them in, still trying to calm his racing heart. Only it wouldn't calm. Something still felt off. The sense of wrongness and foreboding left behind by his nightmare refused to leave him.

He relieved the owls of their burdens, thanking them quietly, stroking feathers and offering them treats before sending them away, their duty done. Hedwig remained a moment longer, stroking her head against his cheek. He finally sent her off to hunt for mice. But he could not bring himself to open his presents. He felt horribly unsettled, and the nightmare, though fading, still refused to leave him alone. He had an almost desperate need to reassure himself that everything was as it should be. So he went to find a mirror. He needed to look at his own reflection, to see the green eyes stare back defiantly, to know he was himself.

oOoOoOoOo

Remus Lupin came awake instantly as a scream tore the silence of the old house. Heart pounding, he sat up, trying to orient himself. After a moment, he quickly slipped out of the bed and grabbed the robe he had earlier tossed onto a chair, before making for the door. He wrenched it open. But all was silent again. Wait no, there was the faint sound of … desperate sobbing? He tore down the stairs barefooted, still shrugging on the robe, as he followed the trail of sound towards its source.

oOoOoOoOo

Urgent calls from the fireplace in his study woke him from an uneasy slumber. Severus Snape blearily opened his eyes. Grumbling, he slowly got up and stumbled into the next room, throwing on his dressing gown. The clock on the mantlepiece informed him that it was no-bloody-time to be awakened by a frantic werewolf. He had really been looking forward to a full night of sleep for once, which was a rare occurrence given the many demands on his time.

"Severus!" There was relief in the voice of Remus Lupin when the potions master finally answered his floo.

"You know what hour it is, Remus?"

"Yes, but we need you at Grimmauld Place. Right now!" The wolf sounded truly anxious.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, all right. Let me get dressed at least. I'll be with you in a few minutes," he sighed in resignation, knowing it was going to be another short night. And he went to find his clothing, trying to come awake again, after too little sleep to do any good for his fraying temper.

oOoOoOoOo

A short while later Severus Snape stepped gracefully out of the floo, dusting himself off from the sooty fireplace. He was looking around the dark, cheerless room with an automatic sneer on his face, when the door creaked open to admit a clearly disturbed werewolf.

"Thank you for coming, Severus."

"So what is it, Remus, that could absolutely not wait until the morning and made you get me at such an unholy hour?"

Lupin merely looked at him for a long moment, his features going carefully blank and unreadable, and then beckoned him to follow. "There is something you need to look at in the library."

Severus shot him a suspicious glare, but followed the other wizard across the hallway into the darkness shrouded room which as always smelled of musty old books and mildew. A few candles lit up the end where the Black family tapestry hung on the wall. Lupin went over to it and stopped in front of the old fabric, partly hiding it from view.

"All right, now will you finally tell me what you dragged me here for?" Severus asked tiredly. "It is the middle of the night for Merlin's sake!"

"Well ..." Lupin seemed at a loss for words. "Harry woke me up earlier," he said abruptly, giving Severus an apologetic look.

He snorted. Of course it was due to the Boy-who-lived-to-give-him-sleepless-nights that he was here.

"It's his birthday today," Remus explained hurriedly. "And it seems the boy always stays up to wait for the day to start ... and he .. discovered," now the werewolf ran his hands through his hair in agitation and swallowed heavily.

"Something ... upsetting. Very upsetting," Remus stated, looking straight at Severus. "And rather inexplicable. And there are damn few people who could possibly shed some light on this. Most of them are dead. Of the living ... maybe you. Maybe Albus. But more likely you."

"What is it then, that you think I might know?" Severus was tired, and knew that his remaining patience was running out fast.

"Here ..." the wolf grabbed his sleeve and tugged him forward. "You need to look at the tapestry," Remus said and stepped sideways to allow him to finally view the old thing.

Severus' eyes followed the pointing finger. His eyes widened involuntarily.

"What the fuck?"

"Exactly my reaction."

He felt like the air was being constricted out of him.

"This is impossible!"

"No."

"No?"

"It's worse."

"_Worse_?"

"It's true."

And that's when his eyes followed Remus' gaze to the other occupant of the room, who had been sitting overlooked in the shadows, with his head cradled in his hands. And Severus felt as if the foundations of the house itself were being torn out from underneath him. He steadied himself against a chair and collapsed onto it. He stared at the slight figure in front of him. The boy looked absolutely shell-shocked when he finally looked up at his teacher. As well as he might. He looked just like his mother. From the dark eyes to the dark curly hair and the chiselled features.

"This is ...this cannot be ... no ... please tell me this is some joke ... this cannot be true ..." Without doubt hundreds of students would have given a lot to hear their strict potions master reduced to this stammering mess.

"Worth dragging you here for then?" Remus' voice was dripping with unusual sarcasm.

"But ..." he struggled for air. "How? And why only now?"

"Apparently someone ... I would guess Lily ... put a lot of really strong charms on him as a baby. She was a genius at charms work, after all. But permanent appearance charms like that need _consent_. Which can be given for an infant or a child, but once he reached the age of consent …. well they have collapsed, as you can see. And that also caused the information to appear on the tapestry, it seems."

Their eyes returned to the large piece of fabric on the wall.

"This is a very old piece of magic," Remus continued, as he trailed his fingers over it again. "But it looks like it can be blocked from displaying information. You may note that it still does not say who the boy's father is ... only it cannot have been Lestrange himself or he would not be a Black by name."

"Which means the boy is likely bastard born," Severus pointed out, his mind already whirling with possibilities. He heard a chocked sound behind him.

"Regardless of that, thanks to his mother being the eldest sister, he still has seniority on the distaff side of the Black family. And the tapestry says that he _is _the heir of the House." The fingers stroked softly over the House seal curled around the name.

They all stared at the embroidery on the tapestry. The shadows around them coiled deeply, with the flickering candles only dispelling enough of the gloom to make the gold threads glitter. Corvus Black. Son of Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black. Formerly known as Harry James Potter.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "I cannot help hoping that this is some nightmare I am about to wake up from soon."

Surely the world could not turn upside down in a few minutes.

"Nightmare is right," he heard the boy mutter behind them. "And I can't seem to wake up either."

oOoOoOoOoOo

"However," the werewolf spoke up again, softly, after the silence had started to stretch uncomfortably. "Back to the reason I called you here, Severus. You see … there are only two people I can think of, who might conceivably have taken him from Bellatrix and brought him to the Potters. One ... Sirius. She might have turned to her cousin for help ... "

"Unlikely but possible, yes," Snape agreed, shifting restlessly.

"He would have helped her though, if only to protect a child of his family. But you are right, that she would not likely have involved the cousin she hated ... unless she was really desperate and had no other recourse. And we cannot ask him anymore," Remus concluded, looking pained.

"But the other possibility ... is you. You were a fellow Death Eater, and you _were_ a friend of Lily's."

Severus Snape shook his head. "I cannot remember anything of that kind. But it is ... possible, I must admit. I do know that Bellatrix was gone for a few months around that time ... from spring to late summer, if I remember it right. The Dark Lord himself had sent her to the continent to recruit allies I think. And if she knew she was with child ... she might have tricked her master to get him to do it ... she was cunning enough and it was long before she was reduced to insanity."

"There was certainly no love lost between her and her husband. It was an arranged marriage and she was secure enough in her position with the Dark Lord that she could play around with impunity. Her master even encouraged it. She was ... very beautiful then. And utterly alluring. There were several of the Death Eaters who were seduced to the Dark Lord's side because of her, and she didn't care about their age either." Snape hunched his shoulders and looked uncomfortable.

"It could easily have happened during one of the Dark Lord's revels ... there was usually plenty of alcohol and … recreational potions involved ... enough that she might have forgotten about safety charms. She was wild and often indulged herself. Though why that whore would have chosen to bear a child that was not her husband's ..."

"Severus! Harry doesn't need to know all that of his ... his mother for ... " Remus finally could not contain his mortification anymore, but he was immediately interrupted again.

"And you think being coddled will help him?" Severus Snape spat, locking incensed.

"Best he knows fully what she is like, so that he does not get any false idea that there is anything to be salvaged about her. She was never a sweet child. She grew up in an unpleasant, dark family, and in her turn embraced the Darkness willingly. There are very good reasons she is the Dark Lord's favourite! She is a sadistic, depraved murderess, and probably utterly insane by now, and yes, she is a whore. She would even warm the Dark Lord's bed in a heartbeat if he wanted her to! Maybe she has in the past. And she is everything Lily was not!"

Snape's voice had gotten increasingly venomous during his tirade, but it broke at the last words. He sharply turned his face towards the darkness and visibly tried to calm himself.

Remus instead looked at the boy, who had gone pasty white and was shivering badly, clutching his hands together hard. "Oh Cub, I know this is terrible for you. I certainly would not want her for a mother either, knowing all she has done."

When this got no reaction at all, he went over and embraced the trembling teenager, enfolding him firmly in a hug. "But I will always be there for you, you know that? It does not matter to me who your parents were."

Harry refused to meet the werewolf's eyes when Remus tilted his chin up.

"Please believe me. You are still you. It doesn't matter if Lily and James were not your parents. That doesn't change who _you_ are. I have gotten to know you as a wonderful young person, who is resourceful, and determined, and loyal and fierce and who will stand up for what he believes in. That has not changed in the slightest. Believe me. You are still you!" The werewolf took Harry by the shoulders and shook him lightly.

"It does not matter who your parents were. It. Does. Not. Matter!"

The boy sighed but finally looked back at Remus.

"Maybe. I have to try and believe it, I guess," Harry said softly, sounding hopeless.

"Is there any way to find out who my father was, though? It's bad enough to know about ... her," he continued after a moment, his voice breaking. "But I'd rather not be surprised by _that_ discovery under even worse circumstances."

Remus looked back at the potions master, who left his chair and moved closer with a swish of dark robes. Snape's expression was unexpectedly unguarded, if quite unhappy, as he stared at them, and Harry felt grateful that for once his teacher refrained from making sarcastic comments.

"Think, Severus. Is there really nothing else you remember?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose again and closed his eyes for a moment in concentration.

"No. But there are some things about all of this, which now do not quite add up anymore. And _that_ is suspicious. It almost screams of obliviated memories. You will never notice they are gone, until you go looking for something and find ... unsatisfactory blanks. Loose threads. Things that do not quite fit together. Like why Lily's baby was so important to me that I swore a wizard's oath for his sake. Why I would go to Dumbledore to change sides because of him," Snape admitted as he crouched down next to the other two. He was looking intently at Harry, as if searching for something in his features.

Remus looked thunderstruck. "That was because of _Harry_?"

Snape's admission sounded very reluctant. "Yes. That, and I was starting to come to my senses anyway and wanted out of that insanity. But the final straw … well … I always thought it was because of Lily herself but ... no. It was definitely because of the child. I am somehow quite sure of that. But now we know that he was not Lily's child at all. And why should _Bellatrix_'s child be a reason for me to want to switch sides?"

Both of them stared at Harry. Remus' look turned thoughtful after a moment.

"Is there any chance that _you_ are the father then?" Harry's eyes widened at that and went to Snape's face, who continued to inspect the teenager with a burning intensity.

"Given his looks and coloration? It dare say it's entirely possible. I also attended all those revels that possibly might have produced him, and yes, in those days I was not immune to Bellatrix's dubious charms, either," Snape admitted, grimacing in obvious self loathing. "And I seriously doubt I would have taken Bellatrix's son by anyone else to Lily of all people ... but mine? Yes, I can see myself doing that. Also if it _was_ me," the usually so smooth voice trembled. "I could then have given the necessary consent for those damn charms."

"And would you have given up all knowledge of this to protect him?" Remus questioned gently.

"To protect him and spare myself the anguish of seeing him grow up away from me ... as _James_' son no less? Or else see him die at the Dark Lord's hands? Yes to that again." Snape's voice sounded tormented.

Severus Snape and Harry Potter continued to stare at each other, eyes full of that terrible surmise. Neither seemed able to speak further. Once again it was Remus who finally broke the uncomfortable cloying silence filling the room.

"I think you both need to know if it is the truth or not," he stated. Both pairs of troubled eyes were dragged to him, seeming oddly reluctant to break their contact.

"I think that given everything, you, Severus, are the one that would matter the most to Harry, no?" The boy flicked a sideways look at Snape before he nodded almost unwillingly.

"After all, it's not as if he knows any of the other Death Eaters personally, and you two certainly have had a ... deplorable history together," Remus continued, his voice suddenly hard. "Which you really should bury no matter the outcome of this."

Two dark gazes met again, and neither seemed willing to look away for long moments. It was Snape who finally tore his eyes away and stood up again.

"I dare say we should. Not even I am so obstinate and bull headed to keep seeing James Potter in him now and if I was wrong about that ... who knows what else I was wrong about," he admitted quietly. His mouth twisted into a bitter smile as he returned his gaze to the silent teenager who was staring up at him with disbelief written on his face.

"As to our other suspicion ... _that_, at least, we can easily either prove or lay to rest. But if his father was someone else, we may never learn. It's not as if we can blood test all the Dark Lord's followers ... provided that the one in question is even still amongst the living." Harry looked sick at that thought.

"But I am available, and the test is easy enough to do. I will go fetch what we need. And I best bring Albus back with me. Merlin knows what _he_ will make of this," he added over his shoulder as he swept towards the fireplace in the other room.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus Snape's arrival in his private quarters was less than graceful for once. He almost stumbled when he emerged from the floo, catching himself against the nearest wall and staring at his shaking hands before closing his eyes. He still felt shocked to the core. This was a nightmare. This was his own sordid past coming to haunt him. Because he _had_ been a guest in Bella's bed around the time the boy must have been conceived. Had received her amorous attentions more than once. Had quite willingly drowned his sorrow at the loss of Lily in the dark witches arms.

And he could not decide if he wanted it to be true or not. For the boy's sake it would actually be the best outcome if he was, indeed, the father. His face twisted into a bitter smile. Indeed far better him, than most of the possible alternatives. It would not be easy after those last years wasted on mistaken hatred, but they could still reconcile. Probably. They could reach some kind of understanding. He had never treated the boy well. But he had also always protected him. So maybe there was still a basis for trust. Eventually. Hopefully. He took a deep breath.

But for his own sake ... he felt terribly torn. He realised that part of him wanted nothing to do with this, desired simply to push it all away for someone else to deal with. But the other part, by far the larger it seemed, somehow badly wanted the boy to be his. Because without the hatred for James Potter, without those damned looks of the other man getting in the way, all the past vitriol and resentment he had felt towards the boy appeared utterly pointless. And so very stupid.

Because now that his eyes were no longer clouded by his own expectations, he found himself wanting to discover what was really there. To maybe even find himself in the boy. Who had suddenly turned into an entirely unknown quantity. And who was perhaps a strange, twisted gift out of nowhere. But who was most of all, right now, just a young man who needed to find out who his father was. Even if that father turned out to be one Severus Snape, bitter and twisted spy and former follower of the boy's worst enemy.


	2. Paternitas

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. I just enjoy messing around with them.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Albus." This was no time for polite greeting rituals. Or offers of inane sweets.

"We have a problem. A serious problem," he said, knowing that his voice sounded cold. Cold to hide the turmoil underneath. Of course the ice was cracking, but right now he needed to stay calm. Calm and controlled. There would be time to break down later. Once he knew if it was true. Or not. He still could not decide which would be worse.

"Oh dear," the old man said complacently. Severus had to fight a strong desire to strangle him. "Something is up with Harry, I suppose?"

"Now what makes you say that, Albus?" He was instantly suspicious. Did the old man know something they did not? It would certainly not be the first time his employer had kept secrets from everybody.

"It _is_ the boy's birthday today. It is therefore not unlikely that any problem would involve him," the old wizard pointed out calmly. Not an unreasonable supposition unfortunately. It wasn't as if he himself was innocent of having jumped to conclusions regarding the bane of his existence. The bane of his existence, who might now turn out to exist because of Severus himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose. All this was starting to give him a headache.

"Yes, it involves …. Mr. Potter. And I am sorry to have to say," he added disdainfully, and looked around the office with all its portraits. "That even here is not entirely secure enough." Albus' gaze sharpened at this declaration.

"And thus we need you over at Grimmauld Place," Severus concluded and swept his hand towards the fireplace. "To help sort this out. Preferably before this night is over."

He looked pointedly at the old wizard, willingly meeting his eyes for once, to demonstrate just how urgent and serious the matter was.

"Of course I will come, but is the boy all right?"

"That depends on your definition of 'all right', I suppose," Severus' drawl was sarcastic as he headed for the fireplace and grasped a pinch of floo powder. '"But in body, at least, he is unharmed. I can make no guarantees for his state of mind, though."

Or mine, before this night is over, he added silently as the floo tore him away.

.

oOoOoOoOo

When Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace a little while later, he followed the trail of lightened candles downwards to find his potions master setting up a cauldron and an assortment of ingredients on the kitchen table. The younger wizard did not even look up from his work at his entry.

"What are you doing, Severus?" Albus appeared puzzled.

"Surely brewing a potion is nothing unusual for me, Albus?" Severus replied sarcastically, as he started to swiftly prepare and add ingredients with the ease of long practise. At least the potion itself would be easy to deal with. Quite unlike the possible consequences of what it might reveal.

"Now? And here? After you called me over so urgently?" The old wizard looked around the dismal, cheerless kitchen. Not all the scrubbing in the world ever seemed to rid the place of the feeling of ancient grime.

"This potion is required quite urgently," Severus said with fake calm and looked for a moment pointedly at the door behind Dumbledore. He hoped the old man would take the hint. He continued to stir the liquid in precise, unhurried patterns, outwardly unperturbed. Inside he rather felt like his own potion, which was by now starting to simmer away nicely.

"I believe you are expected in the library, Albus," he added sharply, when the headmaster made no move to leave him alone.

"Does the potion have anything to do with the boy?" Albus persisted doggedly, clearly still trying to work out what exactly Severus was brewing.

"Yes, Albus," Severus admitted with a glare at the older man, reaching into the bag he had brought from Hogwarts and setting a gleaming silver knife on the table. He watched Albus' eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Please go to the library, Albus. And send Mister … Potter to me, once you are done with him."

He closed his eyes and willed the old man to leave. He finally heard steps and the closing of the door. He released the breath he had been holding. Resumed his stirring. And felt his insides tie themselves in knots. Long minutes of restless waiting passed before the door eventually opened again. The boy slipped inside, still looking pale faced and disturbed. Severus regarded him steadily as Harry settled on a chair across from his teacher, giving the brewing potion an uneasy look.

"How did he take it?" Severus finally asked, when the boy seemed unwilling to speak first.

"I'm not sure," the boy admitted quietly, his voice subdued. "I think he was almost expecting something of this kind. Just not … _Bellatrix_. _That_ seemed to shake him badly." By the look on the boy's face he clearly sympathised with the headmaster. He fell silent again, still staring at the potion.

Severus returned his own attention to the cauldron as well. It was finished. They could not put it off any longer. Severus took a deep breath and released it again, suddenly unsure of what to say. Harry's eyes remained fixed on the potion simmering gently between them. Severus cleared his throat. The boy looked up at that and their eyes met across the cauldron, darkness meeting equal darkness. Clearly they were both uncomfortable with the situation.

"What now?" the boy asked hesitantly.

"Now we each add a drop of blood to the potion. If we are not related at all, it will go dark and cloudy. If you are, indeed, my son, it will turn clear. If we are related, but to some lesser degree, it would be cloudy but not dark ... the closer the lighter," Severus finished his explanation. The boy silently nodded his understanding.

He took up the knife. Nicked his finger, letting a drop fall into the roiling depths of the potion. Handed the knife across to the youth. Who turned it over once, with trembling fingers. And looked up at him, searchingly. Then the dark eyes, so different from what they had been, went to the knife again. The boy pierced his thumb.

Severus felt almost mesmerised as he watched the drop fall into the fluid. Both had their eyes fixed on the cauldron. Which boiled up once, and delivered its verdict. Guilty as charged. And as clear as both their eyes were not.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"So," Harry began, folding his hands together carefully. They were trembling. Again. He felt breathless. He had a father. A _living_ father. Who hated him. Or at least detested him. His eyes were stinging. He raised them again, to meet his father's burning gaze. It didn't _feel_ like hate though. His brow wrinkled in confusion.

"You _have_ been thinking about this," he said, the accusation heavy in his voice.

The man who was his father nodded in agreement. "Only every moment since I became aware of the possibility," Severus Snape admitted. "And I cannot say that I am pleased by this development."

Why did this declaration actually have to feel strangely painful? Why should it hurt to be rejected by someone you didn't like in the first place? He shivered, hunching his shoulders slightly. Lowered his eyes to hide the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes.

"I am not pleased at the horrible complication this makes in my life. I am already juggling too many balls, trying to please too many masters. Can you understand that?" Snape continued, sounding oddly hesitant. "But neither am I … entirely displeased."

Harry blinked in confusion. What was the confounding man trying to say? They were suddenly back to their staring match it seemed, both trying to read something in the other's eyes. Was there a feeling of shared desperation for … acknowledgement, maybe? A sign that the other …. actually wanted this?

"You did!" he suddenly accused. He could not say how he knew this, but it felt undeniably true to him. "You did want it to be true."

The other's dark eyes closed. It felt like an admittance of defeat.

"Yes. Part of me … does. Part of me .. does not."

"I can understand the parts that don't. The parts that do …." Snape opened his eyes again, his voice trailing off. It held none of its usual silky smoothness at the moment. "They are …." the wizard touched his heart with both hands, met his son's dark gaze squarely again. "They are … unexpected. Inexplicable. Painful even. And ..." he drew a shaky breath. "For all that I strongly disliked you before … that feeling seems to have disappeared. Only it seems to have left the intensity of the emotion behind." Harry would never have thought to see the other man look so lost. Or so bewildered.

Which was really how he felt himself. His own feelings seemed to be all over the place. Surely he could not possibly be wanting to be acknowledged by the dark wizard who had made his life so unpleasant? Who had done nothing but insult and ridicule him. And yet even the thought that he would be rejected now, had caused a quite painful reaction in him. Had even brought involuntary tears to his eyes. Maybe he should blame it on the fact that his life had just been turned totally upside down? After all, in a world where nothing was the right way up, wanting to be accepted by _Snape,_ of all people, could somehow make sense?

He finally found his own voice again. "I think I know what you mean. And I don't think that I hate you anymore either."

"Which leaves us … where?" Never in his wildest dreams would he ever have expected Snape to sound … insecure. But something had changed with that mutual admission of changed feelings. Because now they were suddenly in dangerously new, uncharted territory. And it would be so very easy to founder there, when everything was so new and so painfully raw.

What _did_ they feel for each other now? What could they possibly feel after those years of mutual animosity? Love? The very idea was laughable. What else could they possibly want … ah. That was it, wasn't it? _Want_. Want itself. Wanting to not be alone. Wanting someone else to be there. Wanting to be wanted. He knew that desire all too well, had lived with it most of his life. And he could see it reflected in the dark eyes burning into him. But it was much too soon to speak of it. First they needed to clean up some of the past. Their past. He shivered.

"Damned if I know. I don't know what to think about anything anymore," he said, smiling bitterly. The atmosphere in the room felt oppressive.

"You did give me hell the last five years, though. And most of it because of something that wasn't my fault ... and was never even true it seems. So yeah … what are you going to do now? You sure can't keep accusing me of being 'just like my father'," Harry added almost spitefully.

He knew he was probably sounding too harsh, but the way he had been treated had left its wounds in him. The world may have turned upside down, but that had not drained all of his old anger and bitterness. And he wasn't just going to let it all go without at least an apology.

"It would indeed be very hypocritical of me to continue seeing _James Potter_ in you," his … father admitted, still sounding unsettled. "Though now that I actually think about it, I fear that I actually _do_ see your father in you," Snape continued with an edge of self mockery to his voice. Harry raised an eyebrow at that. But the older wizard nodded decisively.

"No, you certainly do have my temper. And my damn stubbornness. And my unwillingness to quit in the face of a challenge," the man sighed. "I'm afraid I may not have passed my best qualities to you."

"But mostly I realise that … I do not know you at all," Snape continued slowly. "Thanks to only seeing what I expected to see, I fear that I have absolutely no idea what is really there. And I know that I need to learn who you truly are ... especially now. I can only hope that you will let me."

His robes rustled as he moved around the table and crouched down in front of Harry, looking at him with a strange intensity that was making Harry's insides churn.

"For what it is worth … I am sorry. Not only because I was wrong about you, but also because I was out of line in the first place. I should never have tried to take out James' sins on who I thought was his son. I am sorry for assuming the worst of you. I'm sorry for not believing you, when you tried to tell me otherwise. And I'm more than sorry for all those wasted years. I know that 'sorry', does not really fix anything … but do you think we could try and find a new start?"

Harry could see nothing but sincerity in his … father's face. Silence fell once again upon the room. His father. He could wish it had been someone else. But then again, someone else could have been ever so much worse, too. And the man had actually apologised. Said he was sorry. Which was surely worth something. But was it enough? Could it ever be enough? But even if it wasn't, could he really afford to refuse this request? After all he had his own share of guilty feelings, and things to apologise for.

He realised he had been staring silently at Snape for too long when the insecurity and the intensity in the other's eyes started to turn to blankness and it looked like he was going to get up again.

"Don't," he said helplessly. "I just don't know what to say. Or think. Or … I … just don't know. Anything," he finished lamely, trying desperately to convey the message with his eyes instead. Something must have gotten across, because Snape was still there. Waiting. His expression questioning. Harry closed his eyes and tried to find some composure. Somewhere. So he could maybe make some sense. He swallowed convulsively to try and dislodge the tension that had gotten stuck in his throat.

"I … I …." he began, realising that he must be sounding like an idiot. But the words did not want to come. He forced them out anyway.

"I'm sorry, too," he managed, his voice tight with emotion. And found that, once that sentence was out of the way, that it became much easier.

"I should have tried harder. To listen to you. And to not always loose my temper. I mean, I can ignore insults from other people easily enough, but you just always got to me. I know you tried to keep me safe, and I must have been a nightmare in that regard. Even if it was often not my fault. And you would just never listen to me."

Harry knew that the harshness and the hurt was back in his voice. He had never realised himself just how badly his teacher had been affecting him. In a way it made a weird kind of sense now, even though he could not have known. Surely not. But perhaps he had always felt that there was something connecting them, and to have it constantly denied … but maybe that could change now. If he allowed it to.

"But I … would like to try anyway … I think," he concluded despondently. He realised it was hardly the most rousing of sentiments, even as he said it.

He wondered if it would be enough. But his throat had closed up again. He couldn't stop the shivering any longer and hugged himself convulsively. Tears were stinging in his eyes again. But after a moment he felt arms go around him and helplessly buried his face in dark fabric smelling of dry herbs. Apparently it _had_ been enough. The whole world had spun on its axis and nothing was how it had been. Especially if it involved getting a hug from Snape. His father.

.

oOoOoOoOo

It was a while later that Severus Snape swept into the library, the draught from his abrupt entrance setting the candles dancing. The two men waiting for him fell silent at his approach, both watching him intently. He stopped in front of them and gave them a brief glower before turning away sharply and staring resolutely at dark shelves.

"Severus?" the old man sounded concerned.

"Yes?" he asked the darkness.

"Do we really have to drag it out of you? Or will you please tell us? What did you find?" Albus asked gently. He did not want that. Not the gentleness. Not when he still felt so open and emotional. Him. Emotional. He snorted. And capitulated to the inevitable with a sigh.

"Yes. I am. He is. We are. Father and son. For what it's worth," he snapped in a fit of almost childish irritation. He did not want this conversation. Not now. Not when he was still trying to work out what it meant. What it would mean. He glowered at the darkness in front of him. He imagined the look the other two would be exchanging behind his back. Not only was the Boy-who-lived the son of Bellatrix Lestrange, but he had Severus Snape for an equally unlikely and undesirable father. Still, their thoughts probably would be echoing his own: far better him than the possible alternatives.

"Severus, please. Don't be like that," this time it was the damn wolf pleading with him. But what did they know? How could they understand what it felt like to find out that your most detested student was actually your own bloody _son_! What did they expect of him? It was times like these that they ought to remember he was not a clockwork spy, but a human being with emotions. Emotions that were currently more than confusing and out of control. Emotions that he did not particularly want to share with them either.

He was not prepared for how undone he felt when a gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Severus, please look at me," Albus remonstrated with him, his voice still full of that gentle concern that too often led to Severus' downfall. But he did not want to give in. Even if it was childish temper. For once he wanted to indulge it. Because here and now he could afford to. He was safe with those two, for all it galled him to admit it. He sighed and finally allowed himself to relax into the touch.

"I know," he muttered. "I know I am being stupid. But _this_? Of all things? How do I deal with this?"

"Like you always do, dear boy. One step at a time. And we will help."

"Will you now?" he murmured, but he knew that the question was a rhetoric one. Of course his mentor would. It would hardly be left up to him alone to deal with the boy. And Remus would help, too, if only out of concern for his precious cub. Still ...

"Remus, why don't you go see where Harry has gotten to?" Albus asked calmly, exerting slight pressure on Severus' shoulder. It was a warning. Do not protest. We need to talk.

"Of course, Albus," Remus agreed amiably and immediately got up and made for the door. Severus frowned after him. All this willing cooperation on the werewolf's part was … slightly unnerving. Though he had to admit that Remus had been trying to extend him a hand in friendship for a while now. And he had always been the most tolerable of the unholy set of Marauders. Still, the man ought to be more upset to discover that his best friend's son was not actually his son at all. Then again, he was hardly the only one wearing a mask, and so Lupin's gentle amiability likely was a mask, too.

However, he was now alone with the old man. Time to ask a question of his own. He finally turned around to face Albus Dumbledore, who was still looking at him with concern in his eyes. But the headmaster wore a mask, too. He shock off the other's hand, met his eyes firmly.

"Did you know any of this, Albus?" Severus' question was a challenge. Because if anyone could have known, it would be the interfering and meddling old chess-master.

"No. Honestly, Severus. I have kept a lot of things from you over the years," Albus admitted, "but I would never have hidden your son from you. Never. As for who his mother is," the old man grimaced at the thought. "I am still trying to get my own mind around that one. I admit that I sometimes had my suspicions … that maybe … that there was something not right with him being the Potter's son."

"Everyone always saw his 'parents' in him", he went on to explain immediately. "But honestly I never did. I _did_ blame it on his upbringing, but there was always a lot in him that just did not match with Lily and James. I fear that most of the similarities we all saw over the years were from our own expectations."

Severus winced and looked away. "I know. I never wanted to see the boy. I was much to busy hating his father," he closed his eyes as the incongruity of that statement struck him anew. "How fittingly ironic that I therefore ended up hating myself."

"You have done too much of that over the years, dear Severus," Albus hand came to rest on the younger wizard's shoulder again. "Stop blaming yourself. And do not close your mind to the possibilities now. The boy needs you."

"He needs a father who loves him. I cannot be that. And I feel guilty just looking at him," Severus said harshly, defeat evident in his voice. His son. His son. Not Potter's. It changed nothing. It changed everything.

"No, Severus. He needs a _parent_ badly right now. But not necessarily to love him," he threw up a hand to forestall Severus' protest. "Or even to be particularly caring of him. Well it certainly would not hurt," he added with a sigh. "But I do not think anyone is expecting miracles here, least of all the boy. What he needs is simple someone who is _there_ for him, and can give him some grounding. To let him know that there is something stable about his world after all."

"He has now suddenly gained the chance at something he must have thought forever lost … a parent. And to loose that straight away again, in case you reject him ... what do you think _that_ would do to him? And you are the one he will look to. Bellatrix was a lost cause from the moment he discovered her as a mother, and that leaves you. You, dear Severus."

"_You_ have to be his anchor now. You have to give him stable ground. And I know you can do that. It is not really about love or caring. It is about being there for him. About _wanting_ him. And I know that you can give him that. Because you already do."

Albus' eyes pierced him. He drew a shaking breath. Of course he did. Want the boy. Without explanation, beyond reason. He wanted the boy. He was a precious gift out of nowhere, and nothing or nobody was going to take him away. Not if he could help it. He shuddered inwardly at the realisation how deep the feeling of protectiveness he felt towards the boy - _his_ boy – really ran. He looked at Albus' knowing smile in defeat. Guilty as charged.

"Do what you can. You may not love him … but don't deny that you want him. And feeling wanted is, right now, exactly what he needs the most."

What a disconcerting thought, that out of all this disaster, that he should be the one good thing for the boy. And for all that he wanted to refute the old wizard's words, he found he could not. Too much of it was the truth. Still, he did not have to admit it either.

"And I think you are mistaken that you will not love him, Severus. You cannot deny that there have always been strong _emotions_ between the two of you. You two have always gotten under each other's skin. Love can turn to hate, you know that. And I rather suspect that hate can also turn to love. Especially when you realise, that there was never a reason to hate in the first place. And when you let go of past hurt and shame and guilt."

"One cannot undo the past."

"No. But one can make amends. One can build a different future. And I think you need something from him as well."

He simply did not know what to say to that. And he had hugged the boy. It had felt … surprisingly right. Which had really scared him badly.

"Maybe … redemption? A second chance? And family is a strange thing. It should not matter as much as it does. But there are connections … some of them formed from growing up together of course, but others simply because of a shared inheritance. You obviously have missed out on many of those, but there is still a potential that you should not disregard."

"And I know that Harry often expressed a certain feeling of … distance from his parents. That he did not know them. Did not really feel that he was like them. That was another thing that sometimes made me wonder ... " Albus added contemplatively. And smiled fondly at Severus.

"Albus ..." But it was a faint protest. Doomed to failure.

"You know, for all your feud and your mutual dislike, there was something between the two of you right from the start. You just could not leave him alone, and I do not believe that was just from your hatred of James as his father. And he always reacted very strongly to your behaviour, too. I think that in some ways he was actually rather desperate for your approval."

"My approval?" Severus said disbelievingly. "You really think that?"

"Hmm I dare say so, yes. Anyway … just promise me that you will try, Severus. That is all I can really ask of you," Albus said gently, putting his hand on Severus' shoulder again.

He sighed. "It's the very least I owe him. I just do not know if I can actually succeed."

"You will. Do not sell yourself short, dear boy."

Severus just shot him a dirty look and moved away to stare morosely out of the window. Waiting for his son to join them. His son. How the fates must be laughing at him right now.

.

oOoOoOoOo

It was all too much.

He felt overwhelmed. Unable to sort out how he really felt about any of this.

There was simply no way to put it into words. His mind refused to put it all together.

He wanted to refuse it all. Deny it. It could not be true. Yet the mirror in front of him showed the damning evidence. He wasn't who he had always thought he was. Had in fact never really been that person. Who he had been, was a lie. And who he was now … was an unknown. Someone without a past to define him. And yet at the same time quite constricted by the circumstances of his parentage.

As for those parents ...

His mind shied away from even thinking about his mother.

He simply couldn't reconcile his memory of Bellatrix Lestrange with any image of motherhood. Much less _his_ mother. Mum. He felt like laughing hysterically. He splashed some water over his face instead. Watched the drops of water slide down his cheeks. Mother. _Bellatrix_. It just didn't add up. Unless the result of the equation was insanity.

As for his father …

Now that was difficult in an entirely different way.

Because of all the bad blood that had been between them. Because of the many insults, the hurt that had come to him from the man, because of a father who now wasn't even his father. But despite all that, despite the pain and anger and plethora of other bad feelings and memories that stood between them …

There was a 'but'.

A 'but' that was giving him an odd hope.

Because there was the potential for things to become different. Things had been bad between them, yes, but they didn't need to stay that way. If both of them managed to look beyond the past. And he had seen the signs in the eyes of the other man. Both the conflict … and the want ...

The want, the strange draw that he felt himself. The want not to be alone. The want to belong. The want of … having a family. It was unsettlingly intense. And most disconcerting. But … and it was a big 'but', promising at the same time. It promised a future. One where he could maybe _belong_.

And didn't have to feel so alone.

But …

What he needed to do now was go back to the library and meet with the others.

And see about sorting out some kind of future. For Harry Potter. Or for Corvus Black. The two of them were almost mutually exclusive. Only one of them could really have a future. The other was going to be forgotten. Ignored. Un-lived. Maybe one day it would come out how Harry Potter should really have been Corvus Black. Or how Corvus Black had once been Harry Potter. But which? It wasn't: 'to be or not to be'. It was: 'to be one or the other'. And the other then would not be.

Who would he be tomorrow?

And would he really have any say in the matter?

Or would it all be decided for him, as his life had been so far. He shivered. And tried not to think on how well _that_ had worked out so far, with people thinking they knew what was best for him. What if they decided it was better for him to forget all about Corvus Black? Condemning him to stay Harry Potter. He scowled at his reflection. Was that really how he felt about himself? Condemned to be Harry Potter? Did he actually want to be Corvus instead? Who came with such an … interesting package. But no past. It was definitely a thought worth considering.

Well, he'd have to see if they would actually regard his opinion. He thought they might … but …

Time to face the music. And see what the melody was going to be.


	3. Decisions

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. But oh the fun one can have with them ….

oOoOoOoOo

He had still been staring at his reflection with unseeing eyes, lost in thoughts, when the door opened and Remus came in, looking concerned. Remus, who offered hugs and soft words of reassurance. Which was what he wanted … and then again not. Snape had been surprisingly right about that … coddling didn't really help in dealing with all this. Then again, he didn't know what would help. Maybe only time could. And probably he needed to talk some more with his … father. Snape. His father.

But he meekly followed Remus back to the library, no matter how reluctant he was to face the three of them together. It felt a bit like he was going to his judgement. Like he was about to be judged for having Bellatrix as a mother, and was going to be found wanting. No matter that Remus said it didn't matter, Snape actually seemed to have accepted him, and Dumbledore … well his gentle smile didn't really give anything away. But surely he must be disappointed with Harry now? Though once again, it wasn't really his fault, was it? Parents was not something one could pick, after all.

When they entered the library Remus had gone to join the headmaster, and the two of them were now conferring quietly, seated around a small round table where a couple more empty chairs were waiting. Harry had found himself drawn back to the damned tapestry, and was now listlessly examining it again. Nothing had changed there. It still proclaimed his new-found parentage in glittering gold embroidery. He could have sworn that he felt the eyes of … Snape on his back, watching Harry as he stared at his new name. His … new … name. Or … who he really was. Maybe. It still felt surreal.

He became slowly aware that the others had fallen silent. He turned around to find them all watching him. Snape had joined the other two at the table and he hadn't even heard the man move. He lowered his eyes. Started to card back his hair in a nervous gesture. And felt his breath hitch as his hand encountered the curls. The damnable curls. He let his hand fall helplessly. Finally raised his eyes again to look back at the three. Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile and eyed the last empty chair suggestively. Harry shrugged and went to sit down with them.

"So," he said, and he was sure his voice was trembling. "Tell me, who am I nowadays?"

oOoOoOoOo

"Legally? You are Corvus Black, bastard son of Bellatrix Lestrange, as you were not born of her husband, and Severus Snape. Your father could claim you, which would make you a Snape. But the Potters … I fear that they didn't officially adopt you, see. They simply pretended you were their child, who must have died," Albus Dumbledore explained, frowning unhappily. "I suspect that you actually have no legal claim to the Potter lineage. I am pretty sure there is no paperwork. Their child died, and you were taken in its place ... secretly."

"So we need to keep this all secret? Put the charms back on me somehow? Forget anything happened?"

Harry felt totally conflicted. Much as he was still horrified at the realisation who his parents really were, he couldn't help feeling strongly about the fact that he did, in fact, have parents who were alive. Never mind that one was out for his blood, and bloody insane, and the other had detested him until now. Only Severus Snape had apparently finally been shocked into realising that he had been very mistaken about Harry, and looked like he actually wanted him to be his son. He swallowed hard.

"Harry … Corvus," Snape was suddenly crouched in front of him again, dark eyes looking into his own intently. "What is it that _you _want?"

"I ... I don't really know. But I am not sure I can still be Harry Potter. Unless you obliviate me too," he laughed bitterly. "Being Harry Potter was hard enough without knowing all this on top of it." He waved his hand vaguely.

"But it doesn't matter what I want, I can't be Corvus Black either, can I? Bellatrix would hand me over to Voldemort in a second."

"Or he would demand that I bring you to him," his father admitted unhappily. "and if I refused ..."

The two of them stared at each other. Albus appeared deep in thought, and Remus' fingers were restlessly plucking at his robes as he stared off into the darkness. Silence lay heavily on the room as they all contemplated the future.

"Actually," Albus finally spoke up again. "It would be possible. And it could work out rather well ... provided no one knows that Corvus Black was ever Harry Potter. And only the four of us here have that knowledge."

Snape stared up at him in dawning realisation. "You mean for Harry Potter to disappear ... and Corvus Black, mystery son of Bellatrix and some unknown father, to show up instead?" he speculated, looking doubtful. "Wouldn't people realise there was something fishy with the timing though?"

"Yes, that is a concern, but I am sure we could work something out. And who would expect Harry Potter to be the son of Bellatrix Lestrange? We could easily claim that someone ... hmm maybe Remus ... found him being raised by the people his mother left him with on the continent. After all, she apparently does not remember anything about him."

"Are you insane? What if she really does try to claim me?" Harry exclaimed, before clapping his hand over his mouth in horror. "Ehm sorry sir for calling you insane," he mumbled hastily.

Albus' eyes twinkled. "Don't worry young man, this is after all a rather … preposterous idea. However, she could not claim you, if you were emancipated. Which is the other cornerstone that the success of this would hinge on. But somehow, I am quite sure that the ministry would be positively delighted in helping the heir of House Black with his emancipation, if it means he and his inheritance stay out of Voldemort's clutches."

"I suspect they would be overjoyed to do that. But what if they refuse after all?" Snape asked dryly.

"In that case, we always have the option to have Mr. Black disappear again and have Harry Potter resurface instead," Dumbledore said calmly, stoking his beard.

"True. All right then ... say he gets officially recognised, and emancipated successfully …"

"And then he is enrolled into Hogwarts in order to keep him from his mother," the headmaster finished. "And the danger for Corvus Black should certainly not be any greater than it has been for Harry Potter. Probably rather less so, actually."

"I guess so," Harry admitted. Voldemort had it out for him in any case. It certainly couldn't be worse as Corvus Black. But what did he really want? He felt torn. Did he want to stay Harry Potter, but a Harry Potter who knew that he was a lie? Did he want them to remove the memory, so he could remain Harry Potter who was a lie, but didn't know about it? Or did he want to live as Corvus Black, who was kind of real, but had no past whatsoever? And Corvus did have living parents. Even if they were horrible ones.

He met the dark eyes of one of his horrible parents. Snape had asked him what _he _wanted. And he had apologised for the past, and said he wanted to start their relationship over. And he knew, with unsettlingly deep felt conviction, that the man felt just as torn as himself, and just as full of this strange _want _to claim the other. Even if they had detested each other, and made each other miserable. But that was the past. And for them to have a chance at a different future ...

Dumbledore's voice once more broke the silence, startling Harry out of his musings.

"Harry, I must say that this plan has quite a lot of merit. No-one would ever look for Harry Potter to show up as Bellatrix's son ... I mean the idea really _does_ sound insane," the old man chuckled, and his eyes were twinkling merrily as Harry winced.

"So as long as we make sure that she cannot get to you, you are certainly in no more danger than Harry Potter was all along. I mean Tom will be interested in Corvus, but very likely much less so than in your old self. Of course we could only admit to your mother," Albus added, looking earnestly at Snape.

"At least as long as I want to keep going back to the Dark Lord, certainly."

"Indeed. Which would have to stop as soon as there was any real sign of him getting suspicious of your loyalty, Severus. You are much more important as Harry's ... Corvus' parent than as a spy. He has never had a father before. We will not take this from him if we can help it," Albus declared with an air of finality. Snape nodded his agreement after a moment. Harry felt that he looked rather reluctant to do so.

"The only reason I will permit you to return to Tom for now, is so we can learn how he will react to the emergence of Bellatrix's son ... and his mother's reaction as well, of course."

"That would be advisable, yes. But do also not forget, that if I deserted the Dark Lord too soon after the boy's discovery, he would no doubt suspect me immediately of being his father," Snape said with an admonishing look. "It would not do for him to get that idea, if it is avoidable."

"True. I had not thought of that, Severus."

"Well, someone has to," Snape snarled, giving the headmaster a glare. "It is my life on the line here."

The old wizard sighed. "And that is why we are discussing this," he said in a conciliatory tone. "So hopefully nothing gets overlooked."

Snape shot him another forbidding look before turning his attention back to Harry, who had been looking back and forth between the two of them with uncertainty. Their short interaction had been a reminder to him that the headmaster did not know everything after all, and could not be expected to always make the right decisions either.

"So. What do you want, Harry," Dumbledore asked quietly, looking at Harry squarely. "We have a basic plan that would allow you to live as Corvus, even if there is still plenty of detail to work out." He shot Snape an apologetic look as he said that. "Or you could continue as Harry Potter, with or," he winced slightly. "Without the memory of this night's discoveries."

"But it must be your decision. This is too big to decide over your head, even if every impulse I have wants me to protect you from it and leave you in ignorance of yourself," the old wizard admitted, looking almost ashamed. "But keeping you in the dark has not worked all that well so far, and the truth has a way of coming out at the most unfortunate time."

"There is also the whole 'age of consent' element, Albus," Snape interjected, still sounding disgruntled. "We literally could not make this decision without his agreement."

"Indeed. Therefore it is up to you to decide, Harry. And I could not expect you to trust me again, ever, if I tried to do it for you," Albus stated gravely.

Harry looked back at him helplessly. "I think I need to think about this for a bit, sir," he said. He had not really expected to be the one to make the decision. He still didn't know what he wanted. And even if it was his decision to make, it would also affect other people. Most of all the dark haired wizard still crouched in front of him.

"We can spare you some time, yes. But not overly much, I'm afraid. This is not something we can delay," the headmaster said, smiling gently. "And over-thinking might not help either, dear boy."

Harry looked a the other three, who were all gazing at him expectantly. He would much have preferred to be alone for this, but that might just make him brood unnecessarily. So he closed his eyes instead, and tried to shoo his errant thoughts into a semblance of coherency.

Only he just didn't know what to think anymore. In a way he had just been handed his deepest desire on a silver platter. A family. That's what he had always wanted. What the mirror of Erised had shown him. Only what a family it was. He shuddered. The silver platter was terribly tarnished, stained black and corrupted.

And it could never, would never be polished to shiny brightness. Because there was just no way he would ever be able to reconcile with his … mother. Unless she somehow got a complete character transplant or something. As for the other half … well, that might be polished up a bit. Maybe. Who was he trying to fool here though. In his own way, Snape was just as dark as Bellatrix. Just not … evil, or insane, or quite so sadistic. He didn't think that the man really thrived on pain and misery, despite the way he had always treated Harry. And he seemed to still be able to have positive feelings, and apparently wanted their relationship to change. So there was a maybe for a somewhat brighter future there.

However, there was another thing that had gotten irrevocably tarnished. He swallowed and blinked back tears. Because the Potters were not his parents. Yes, they had taken him in. They had wanted him. Had died for him. In a way, their sacrifice seemed even greater now, because he wasn't actually their child. Which unfortunately also meant that he felt that much more responsible for their deaths. Because he wasn't theirs. Not their flesh and blood. But they had died for him anyway. He swallowed convulsively again. Tarnished. Because no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that they were still his parents, they were not … quite. Not really. And he felt guilty. Because if they hadn't taken him in, they would not have died that night. He sighed unhappily.

He had always thought that his parents had both been Gryffindors. That he had inherited those traits from them. He had been proud to be in their house. But he wasn't. Instead, it was the Slytherin side of him, which he had been trying to keep suppressed, that came from his … real parents. Not that the Potters were unreal or false parents. But they were just not his real parents anymore. If they had lived to raise him, no doubt they would have had quite some influence on him. But they had died, which meant the only influence he could expect from parents would have to be genetic, or magical or whatever it was with wizards. His raising had been at the hands of Aunt Petunia, and that had surely fostered quite different qualities in him.

How would he have turned out, if he had gone along with the Hat's wishes and gone to the snake den? Not tried to fight those Slytherin qualities? And would he have to find out now, because the gold had turned into tarnished silver? How could he possibly go back to face his friends, his teachers, everyone? Knowing that he really wasn't the golden Gryffindor? That he had become tarnished beyond repair? Because Harry Potter was a lie. A lie with every breath he took.

And unless he forgot all of this, he couldn't see how he would possibly still be able to function as Harry Potter. Because he wasn't. He would flinch every time someone called him this name. Because he just wasn't Harry Potter. Not really. Had never been. It shouldn't matter. The Potters had taken him in, fostered him, cared for him, died for him. But he was not their son. He wasn't.

And he needed to make a decision. He wanted ... wanted to know what he wanted. He needed more time to think on this, to brood, to ... ultimately make things worse. Because there was no good decision to make. No matter which way he decided, there would be an element of falseness. The gold had turned into tarnished silver for good. The lie had been planted for him the day he was taken to the Potters, and he could only live with it now. One way or the other. No help there then. He thought back on his past instead.

Life as Harry Potter had been pretty hard. If he could have grown up with ... Lily and James ... he might have grown up happy. He might not have, with a Voldemort that continued undefeated, and would surely have tried to destroy him and his family until he succeeded. As to growing up with Bellatrix as his mother ... he did not even want to think about that. As it was, he had had a pretty bad childhood with the Dursleys, but that had been comparatively mundane. In a strange way, the terrors of a closet under the stairs, full of darkness and spiders, of neglect and being unwanted, had prepared him for the other terrors he now faced. He had outgrown them. He had emerged stronger for it. Unhappy, but not broken.

And then there had been Hogwarts, and the wonders of magic and the wizarding world. Which had immediately taught him that fame was empty, and that he really didn't want to be special. That his name was a hollow shell, which others used to reflect their own hopes and fears upon. One that he now could, if he dared to take this step into the unknown, discard. And from the moment that he had learnt of his real parentage, he had felt Harry Potter to be a lie. Which was telling in itself, that he felt as if Harry Potter was not quite … real.

So now he could leave Harry Bloody Potter behind. If he dared step into the darkness. Which might actually turn out to be pretty easy, as tarnished as he now was. He finally opened his eyes again. His gaze was drawn, unerringly, to his father. Snape's face was carefully neutral, but his dark eyes still held that raw _want _that drew Harry like a magnet. He stared back.

"It is awfully hard to decide this," he confessed unhappily. "None of my options are what I really _could_ want. But … I know that I have not been very happy as Harry Potter. And this would give me a chance to be … someone else. Someone that not everyone has expectations of, if you know what I mean? Or at least different ones." He sighed unhappily, because even as Corvus Black, people would still expect things from him, wouldn't they?

"The only way I could still be Harry Potter is, if I forget all this. If we bury Corvus Black right here and now, and remove my memory of this night," he said, carefully watching his father. _His_ father. Who was trying very hard not to show his emotions, but they lurked in his eyes. And Harry could see that the other was not happy at the thought of Harry choosing the path of forgetting.

"And I … don't really like being Harry Potter enough to want to continue being him, when he is really … a lie," he continued, slowly picking his way through his own jumbled reasoning. "Which means … and this _is_ really hard, because it has to be one or the other … at least for the longest time I guess … and I don't want to loose my friends, but I also don't want to loose this … chance," he said, looking hard into Snape's eyes. He drew a deep breath, preparing himself to step off into the darkness beckoning to him.

"So I guess, yes, I want to give Corvus Black his chance at living."

And he watched his father's eyes light up with an unexpected emotion that he could only call joy. And the darkness coiled around him, protective and safe.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: The idea behind introducing the 'age of consent' is that, while wizarding children attain their majority at seventeen, they reach the 'age of consent' at sixteen. This allows for a period of time where the children learn to make their own decisions, while still being under parental guidance. The parents, on the other hand, learn to let their children go and to consider their wishes in making decisions. And most of all, it makes for an oh so convenient explanation for why the charms failed when Harry turned sixteen, of course.


	4. Details, details

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

"All right. Now that the main question has been decided, let us proceed to sorting out those pesky details," Albus Dumbledore sighed. "Anyone care for a sherbet lemon, by the way?"

"Oh, keep your sodding sherbet lemons," Snape snapped at the headmaster, shooting him an irritated scowl. "First of all … how can we prove to everyone's satisfaction that Corvus really is who he claims to be," he began, frowning. "Since I doubt that there is any documentation of his birth whatsoever."

"That should actually be rather easy. Gringotts. The goblins will recognise him as the Black heir. They have various ways to establish claims to a bloodline and to the Lordship. And that will also give him some protection from the ministry. They can ill afford to deny a Lord of House who has been officially acknowledged by the Goblin nation."

"Wait. Shouldn't I be the heir to Black thanks to Sirius' will? As Harry Potter?" Harry asked, trying to remember what Dumbledore had told him a few weeks ago.

"Well, as his name has not been cleared yet ... his will does not actually count. We were still working on establishing his innocence in the eyes of the ministry, and there was a lot of opposition to work through. But given this new situation, I fear that we will have to stop trying to clear him, so that Corvus Black can claim the Lordship instead," the old wizard explained, looking at Harry apologetically.

Harry sighed and shrugged. "Guess it doesn't actually matter to him anymore, does it? The people who count, do know he was innocent ... and the rest … oh sod them. But what a family name to have to take up."

"I mean I go from being Harry Potter, Saviour of the wizarding world," he declaimed mockingly, making a face. "To being Corvus Black, highly suspect offspring of Death Eaters and scion of a house full of dark wizards and even a supposed mass murderer. I mean, that's not going to win me any friends. Who would want to trust someone like that, especially if they don't know a thing about him?"

His … father nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately you are quite right. You should probably try and play the neutral card. The light side will no doubt be suspicious of you, no matter what you do, while the ones in the Dark Lord's camp will likely try and woe you at first. Your best bet would be to establish yourself firmly with the neutral faction, who want to stay out of the conflict. If you can get those people to be curious about you, they might be approachable enough."

Harry gave him a dubious look, but nodded anyway. And sighed unhappily. He had made his decision. Now he just had do live with it.

oOoOoOoOo

"We need more details, though. Like, where exactly has the boy been hiding until now? If we can prove his heritage, that's fine, but the fact remains that until yesterday he did not actually officially exist," Remus objected. He had remained suspiciously silent while Harry had wrestled with his life changing decision. Had he been afraid that his input would unduly influence Harry?

"We need to be able to tell people _something_. Everybody will be curious about his past, and why he wasn't raised by his mother, and who he was with, and where," Remus continued, voicing some of the main questions that would certainly be asked. Harry knew only to well how _nosy_ people could be. And that was even without taking someone like Rita Skeeter into account.

The atmosphere turned pensive again. Harry felt strange, being for the first time included in layers of plotting together with adults that he would normally never learn about. Then again, it was his own past and future that was being decided in this dark room. His past and future that they would need to keep in the dark as much as possible … which suddenly gave him an idea.

"Why _do_ I need to tell them anything? Can't I just claim that I am protecting the people who hid me, and that giving _any_ information about where I was or what I was doing would put them in danger?"

Remus sudden smile was brilliant.

"Of course! Now _that _is what I call a simple, yet elegant solution. It is perfect. And if you do not tell anything, you cannot make mistakes or give yourself away, either. Cub, you make me proud," Remus said, beaming happily at Harry who felt all warm inside at the praise.

"This way you can avoid giving unnecessary information even to members of the order. Though you should probably behave .. well ... rather distant? Always slightly distrustful. You do not know who you can trust at this point and you would rather just keep everyone away for now. You can be perfectly polite, though."

"Also you should never volunteer any information, and steer conversations away from you by asking your own questions of people. Always be vague yourself, and really curious about others. After all, most people are only too happy to talk about themselves, and they tend to like and appreciate someone who seems interested in them. Even if it is faked interest." The werewolf's smile turned slightly bitter at his last statement.

"We can see about training him in the art of deflecting and avoiding questions," Snape agreed. The look he gave his son was neutral, but there was the hint of a quiet approval that gave Harry's insides an unexpectedly fluttery feeling.

"And we can help by spreading a lot of rumours. We will create a smoke screen of misleading information, and if it comes from different sources, it will be difficult to penetrate to any truth. Especially if the truth does not exist in the first place," he said, fixing his eyes on Harry.

"But you will really need to learn Occlumency this time." Harry met the other man's dark eyes in unhappy shared memories. "I know. But I am certain that this time we will meet with success."

"Because anybody looking for memories of either Harry Potter _or _Corvus Black must find nothing. It is different from what I do with the Dark Lord. I actually have to show him bits of real memories mingled with faked ones. You need to learn to show no memories at all. We do not have the time or means to fabricate false ones," Snape explained.

"However, you will also have to learn to not show your emotions quite so much," he continued with an admonishing look. "It will do little good for you to be able to hide your memories, but give everything away because you display every reaction for everyone to read on your face."

Harry grimaced at the thought, but knew that Snape was unfortunately only too right. "All right," he said in capitulation. "What else?"

"What if someone gets to him with Veritaserum?" Dumbledore voiced another concern.

"We will have to test that, but the truth is that he _is_ Corvus Black. And that he really does not know anything about his background. As for the rest ... it all depends on the questions. It is an ... unique situation really. He really is both persons ... one of them without a history. So unless his interrogator suspects him of being Harry Potter, he cannot easily be asked anything that would give Harry away," Snape mused, clearly fascinated by the question.

"And it is another reason for the Occlumency. A skilled Occlumens can evade questions under Veritaserum by hiding the relevant knowledge even from himself. So yes, prepare yourself for some intense schooling. This time though, Remus can help. He does not know Legilimency, but is a fair Occlumens, so together, and all parties willing this time," Snape had the grace to look guilty himself. "It should be possible. And it will be," he declared, meeting his son's dark eyes with his own.

"It will likely also help you with thinking of yourself as Corvus rather than Harry. You will need to try and submerge your knowledge of Harry as much as you can. I know this will be hard for you," he said apologetically, continuing to stare into his son's unhappy eyes. "I know. I had to give Corvus up when you were born, and now you need to give Harry up to bring him back."

Harry simply looked back at him, trying to put into his eyes how unhappy and torn he still felt about that.

"You did tell us, though, that you did not really like being Harry Potter?" Snape continued a bit uncertainly.

"Not that much, no," Harry agreed.

"And from what I gather, you did not care for Lily's relatives, so not staying with them again is hardly going to be a problem?" Harry nodded, feeling quite relieved at the thought.

"As for your life at Hogwarts ... what parts of that do you really mind loosing?"

Harry frowned as he thought about it. "Actually ... mostly just a few of my friends. I certainly will not miss the attention Harry Potter used to get. And the rest of my life at the school is not going to change that much, is it? I mean, the classes and the teachers won't be all that different. In fact," he gave his father a faint, shy smile. "They might even be better." Snape … his father … nodded in guilty agreement.

"The relationships I had with the people in the other houses weren't all that great anyway. So it's mostly just Gryffindor in general, and my friends in particular that I am going to miss."

"Seeing them every day and having to pretend that I don't really know them well or even be disagreeable to them is going to be hell. But I can't be too close to them. I know that. I can't even try to get to know them again really." Snape looked like he was going to disagree, so Harry continued quickly.

"No, really I can't. I would give myself away. And you will have to help me, too. You can't say anything of the kind of what you said to me before. Not even in private. In fact, none of you should remind me of having been Harry Potter. You will all have to treat me like Corvus, son of Bellatrix," he said imploringly.

'If I am going to be Corvus, I cannot be Harry anymore at all. Which means that I can't really have any part of his life anymore either. And yeah I guess, mostly I won't mind that much," Harry concluded, feeling shocked at his own declaration.

Because while he would miss his closest friends … there were also a lot of things he wouldn't miss about Gryffindor. Because the people there were often too loud. Too nosy. Too exuberant. Too brash and thoughtless. And after what had happened at the ministry … he didn't think they would understand. His friends who had been there, they might be able to. But not the rest. They were still too innocent. Not tarnished.

oOoOoOoOo

"However, even if we do not need to go into great detail, we still need to decide on a basic history for Corvus. Because the way he supposedly lived for his whole life would show up in his knowledge, his behaviour and his speech, and if he grew up somewhere on the continent, he ought to know at least some other language," Remus said, returning to the initial point of the discussion.

Unfortunately both Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be in agreement with him. Harry felt apprehensive. How was he supposed to learn a language in a few weeks? On top of learning Occlumency and schooling his behaviour into something appropriate for Corvus Black, head of House Black?

"Personally I would suggest Spanish," the headmaster said after a moment's thought. "It should be a language spoken in a fairly sizeable country, and too many of the pure-bloods learn French, so we had better avoid that one. And German is just to annoyingly difficult to learn flawlessly."

Remus nodded slowly. "Indeed, and as you no doubt know I am quite proficient in the language … and I have friends all over the country, too."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That _is_ a happy coincidence, isn't it?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but felt a bit better about the prospect. Language lessons with Remus as a teacher would not be quite so bad.

"Any objections to this choice?" Dumbledore asked after a moment. "No? Then it is agreed. Remus will teach Harry Spanish, and also generally about the country and its culture. Fortunately, he has just the right looks to be able to blend in easily with the Spanish," he added, giving Harry a considering look.

"Yes, definitely a bonus. Plus we get almost all of South America as a possible additional hiding venue for Corvus," he concluded.

"How about him having lived with some scholar and researcher in Defence against the Dark Arts, who travelled about a lot," Snape put in after a moment. "That way he could legitimately be expected to excel in the subject, and if he was home-schooled, it would explain any deficiencies in other areas. And he would not require any knowledge about other schools."

Remus nodded enthusiastically. "Excellent idea, yes. We can spend the rest of the summer going over the material to fill in any gaps, and once you become fluent enough in Spanish, we can even combine the two lessons."

"And it is really the one area of magic where you need as much training as possible," Snape added, giving Harry a forceful look. "Even if you will now be Corvus instead of Harry Potter, the prophecy and the Dark Lord will unfortunately not go away."

Harry looked back at him helplessly and shivered. He could have done without that particular reminder, but once again his … father was right. However …

"Wait," he objected. "I mean, how can the prophecy still be about me? Wasn't it really about … the Potter's child?"

He watched Dumbledore and his father share a long, considering look.

"Actually … it is simply about a child born at a certain time, to parents who had thrice defied Voldemort," Dumbledore expounded slowly, obviously thinking hard. "And even if your parents were Death Eaters … between Bellatrix bearing you in the first place, and Severus hiding you from Tom and then defecting because of you … I dare say that would easily count as three times defiance. And he _did_ mark you," his eyes went to Harry's scar.

"So I am afraid that yes, it still applies to you. And he will not stop hunting for you, no matter how well hidden you may be. Whether you are Harry Potter or Corvus Black does not really make any difference in that regard, I fear," the headmaster concluded, looking earnestly at Harry's unhappy expression.

"You will not have to face him alone, you know," Snape said suddenly. "Your life may be linked to his in some way, but that does not mean that it is only up to you to defeat him. Far from it," he added firmly, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. "Believe me. You will not be alone."

"Just as you will not be alone in facing this. Even if it's only the four of us who know this secret," he added at Harry's look of uncertainty. "But together we command enough resources to make this work. And you will _not_ be alone."

And for the moment, at least, it was enough.

oOoOoOoOo

"Actually, I think we need to let one more person in on this," Dumbledore said, breaking yet another contemplative silence.

"Whom and why?" Snape clearly didn't think much of that idea from his expression.

"Nymphadora. She is in the order, she is an Auror, she is actually his cousin and he will be her Head of House. And she will be able to impersonate him without the help of glamours or Polyjuice."

"Well, maybe she can fool people who don't know me that well, but never my friends," Harry interjected.

"And that is the beauty of my plan," Albus' eyes twinkled merely. "She will not have to. We will tell them that you cannot remain at school and need to go into hiding. But since we are trying to keep that fact from people at first, she will need their help in impersonating you. And then later we will stage something to remove 'Harry Potter' from school."

"All right. So once school starts 'Dora takes my place, but my friends think I went somewhere else and that they need to help her to impersonate me. And I show up as Corvus Black?" Harry summarised. It sounded simple. And complicated at the same time.

"Indeed. Which means that at the worst, your closest friends might be suspicious, but we can discourage that thinking quite easily. We can put some temporary glamours on you for now to give you your old appearance back. We just need to make sure no one is here who could see through those," Dumbledore explained his idea.

"Then you can show them the tapestry as Harry, and we tell them that we think we know where Corvus is and that Remus is going to try and bring him here. And after Remus has done so, Nymphadora can pretend to be Corvus, while you meet your friends as Harry. As nobody will know him yet, that should be easy enough."

"And all we need is for 'Corvus' to not being particularly nice to them so they wouldn't want to befriend him much ..." Harry said slowly, feeling dismayed at the though. "And I can tell them that we don't much get along and stay out of each other's way. It means I can at least 'know' my friends instead of being a total stranger - even if we won't be very friendly."

"Yes. We can stage a few meetings with both of 'you' apparently in the same place and they should not become too suspicious. If they can still work it out despite that, they are also clever enough to keep it a secret. And we can always take them under oath, if it becomes clear that they are too close to realising."

"This is sounding more and more like a sleight of hand magicians show," Remus commented from where he was sitting quietly. Harry quite agreed with him.

"It rather is, yes. And without Nymphadora it would be much riskier. As it is, we only need to convince a handful of people who know Harry really well that Harry isn't Corvus, in a controlled setting. And those people will later help us convince the rest of the school," Dumbledore beamed at Snape. "What a positively Slytherin plan, no?"

"You'd better make sure to include Ginny and the twins in the show as well though. Maybe even Neville and Luna. That lot would see through her - they know me too well - and with them to help as well, the rest should be easy," Harry added.

Snape nodded absent-mindedly, staring at the tapestry. "If you wish to use that thing though," he pointed at the fabric hanging on the wall. "We need to put a glamour on it as well."

"Yes, the date would be suspicious. Also after the testing at Gringotts it is entirely possible it will show your name as the father, Severus. I am surprised it does not already, in fact. But again, all we need to do is keep it from the eyes of those who would see through a glamour. We can change the date to an earlier one. And then we had better hide the damn thing."

The old wizard smiled without humour. "It is evidence that could well damn this whole plan otherwise."

"Do you think that we could get the 'discovery of Corvus Black' out of the way later today?" Harry asked after a moment. "A lot of people are going to be here for my Birthday, anyway," he added self-consciously.

"That might be a good idea, Harry," Dumbledore conceded with a gentle smile at him. "Do you think you will be ready for it though?"

Harry looked at him sideways before turning his head away to stare off into a dark corner of the library.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"But I also do not want to drag this out any more than necessary. I'd rather get this over with, you know. Else I'll end up confusing myself or getting second thoughts," he added and ran his hand through the damnable curls. It was hard not to flinch at touching them, but he was not going to let that stop him anymore. Not after having decided for this new life. The curls were just part of it. Deal with it. End of story.

"The sooner I can start being Corvus all the time, the easier it will be," he went on with a sigh. "And really it will not be that hard to get someone to notice the name on the tapestry. They'll do the rest all by themselves, and anyway Remus is going to be here to take over at that point."

"If you think you can handle it and want to set things into motion, by all means go ahead," Dumbledore told him quietly. "Then the three of us should meet with you around lunchtime to sort out the glamours. I had thought to wait so we could sort out things at Gringotts first, but actually having the order become aware of Corvus before that would be the wiser route. After all, there should be a delay between his discovery and Remus being able to 'find him'."

Harry looked back at him and gave a sharp jerk of his chin in agreement. He didn't quite trust his voice at the moment. Yes, he wanted this. Yes, he wanted it over with. But … he would be setting everything in motion. And then everything would change. He eyes strayed to Snape again. His father. Who looked back, calmly. And maybe the faint, proud smile lurking in the corner of his mouth was really there and not just a product of Harry's imagination.

oOoOoOoO

AN: Regarding me rejecting German as a foreign language for Corvus to learn: I am actually a native speaker of German, and I would really not want to ever have to learn this language. It is messy. Mostly thanks to the fun factor of three grammatical genders combined with articles and pronouns declined through four cases. I've known people to get those wrong after three decades of speaking German every day. Oh and horrible irregular verbs, too. By contrast, I managed to pick up a reasonably good conversational level of Spanish in a couple of months, which is why I choose it. Please do not ask me about the Subjunctive, though. No me gusta el subjuntivo. Realmente quisiera que no existiera. Also I was listening a lot to the song 'La Maza' by Silvio Rodríguez, in the duet version sung by Shakira and Mercedes Sosa, while writing these first chapters, so Spanish was much on my mind.

AN: Thanks very much to my first reviewers, especially to totalreadr – it is certainly lovely when something about your work is called 'genius'. And like any other writer, I do appreciate reviews and constructive criticism.


	5. Confidences

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

They had ended up in the kitchen again. Harry had gone to make some tea to keep everyone going, after he found himself yawning for the third time. He had been staring at the brewing pot, contemplating the absolute madness his life had turned into in the course of just a couple hours, when Snape ... his father … had joined him. So he had busied himself with taking out cups, and had found cream and sugar and spoons, and put it all on a tray. The cupboards creaked horribly, the cutlery drawer got stuck like always, and finally he couldn't avoid facing the man across from him any longer. His father. He lifted his eyes to meet the unwavering dark gaze.

And dropped them again. Glared at the teapot. Which had interesting cracks in the glaze. When he peeked up again, through his fringe, he was still met with that dark regard. He wished the other one would just _say_ something. Because he didn't really know how to start talking. And they probably should. But what can you say when you just had your whole life turned upside down, and the man most responsible for it is calmly sitting across from you, watching you. Not saying anything. He was starting to feel a bit irritated.

"Was there anything you wanted, sir," he finally ground out, when the irritation and the silence got too much.

He looked up in time to see his … father raise an eyebrow. He looked … actually amused. Harry blinked, the irritation gone from one moment to the next, and sat up straighter.

"I thought you might want to talk," Snape said calmly, still with that amused look on his face. "And I believe that in private at least, you are entirely entitled to leave of the 'sir'."

Harry looked at him in disbelief and shook his head. This was getting surreal. Correction: more surreal. Though in truth, the man … his father, he reminded himself yet again … had asked him for a fresh start. But to actually have it happen, to have Severus Snape talk calmly with him and not insult or ridicule him, and to look amused and almost smile at him, was somehow quite hard to process. He blinked again, but the amused gaze was still there.

"Right," he said. "So talk … about what?" He almost added the 'sir' automatically, but caught himself in time. It was kind of strange that normally he had problems adding the honorific, and then when he wasn't supposed to, it wanted to slip in by itself. Just another weird thing to match the rest of the night.

"How do you really feel about your decision?"

Straight for the kill then. Harry looked away, unsure of what he should answer.

"It's difficult," he allowed himself to say after a moment of hesitation. "I still don't know what to think about all of this. I keep wondering if I made the right decision, and at the same time I don't think I could really have made any other."

"You could have continued as Harry Potter. No-one would have blamed you for trying to hide you true parentage."

Now there really was a smile on Snape's face. A very wry one, but it was a smile all the same.

Harry shrugged. "Not really," he disagreed.

"Because you said it … _true_ parentage. Now that I know the truth, Harry Potter just doesn't feel quite real to me anymore. It's like he is a lie. A fake. Even hearing myself addressed as Harry makes me feel uncomfortable."

He watched the eyebrow go up again.

"Was that why you wanted to rush through with having Corvus discovered?"

He shrugged again. "Doesn't help to put it off," he pointed out pragmatically. "I know that I tend to brood. And this isn't something that will get better from brooding and having second thoughts."

"But clearly you aren't really comfortable being Corvus either? At least I doubt you are thinking of yourself that way yet?"

Another shrug. "That will probably take time," he offered. And gave his father a considering look. "I've just never felt really good about Harry Potter in the first place," he confided. Which earned him another raised eyebrow.

"So not wanting to be him was the easy part. Wanting to be someone else … and getting used to everything that comes with being a new person … that's rather more of a challenge."

"And a big part of that challenge is going to be you," he admitted, looking directly into Snape's eyes. "I keep expecting you to treat me like you always have."

Snape actually lowered his eyes at that, breaking their contact. When he looked back up the wry smile was back.

"I'm afraid I have given you every reason too."

"Yeah, well," Harry said distractedly, running his hand through the curls. He _would_ get used to them. "I dare say I will get used to it with time."

"The other thing is that I don't know how to see myself anymore," he continued, finding it unexpectedly easy to confide in this new Snape. Who was apparently quite a good listener when he wanted to. Then again, a spy who couldn't listen well to people probably wouldn't be worth his salt.

"It's rather easy to just go along with how others see you, I mean," he tried to explain his problem. "And quite hard to know what you are really like when absolutely _everybody_ has expectations of you. Especially when people keep telling you constantly that you are just like your parents, and the typical Gryffindor, and things like that. Even my friends are like that in a way. Ron wants me to be his ideal mate, and most of the time it's just easier to go along with him. And you wouldn't believe how much Hermione can nag and badger people, so you just kind of do what she wants, too."

"And you don't think you are like that?"

"Well, for example, how could I actually have been like 'my parents' really? Given that they were neither my biological parents nor raised me? But everyone still saw me like that. You did, too, even if you were always looking at the negative side. And when people keep telling you all the time what you are like … after a while you kind of give up and sort of believe them. Or even start behaving like that, because what's the point? I don't think I've ever managed to get anyone to see _me_."

"I suspect Remus does, mostly," Snape said, tilting his head sideways in contemplation. "His condition has forced him to learn to see past the outward, and he is rather more perceptive than he lets on. And the headmaster does as well, I think."

"Which makes all of two people. Great haul," Harry huffed sarcastically, feeling rather disgruntled.

"Anyway, the problem I have now is that … well, most of the things others saw in me just don't _match_ anymore. It used to be easy to go along with it … and now it suddenly isn't. Just because I know I had different parents, which is ridiculous, really. It shouldn't make that much of a difference!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation.

"Maybe it's because now you actually _know_ that they were wrong, and therefore are more resistant to going along with their views?"

"Yeah, that might be it. But it still leaves me with not knowing how to see myself," Harry repeated.

"In short, the mask that Harry Potter presented to the world has been broken, and you have not yet been able to construct a new one for Corvus Black?"

"Is that all it is? Masks?"

"A great deal unfortunately is, yes. We tend to respond to the expectations of others in certain ways, and with time we develop … corresponding rote behaviours. We do not really think every decision through. Most of the time we just _react_ in a set way. Which was undoubtedly part of the problem I had with you. I applied the way I would have reacted towards … James to you, without checking if it was really the appropriate response. And every time you reacted at all like I thought he would, it reinforced the pattern."

"And that was an explanation, not an excuse," Snape added with a somewhat bitter smile. "Nothing can excuse this terrible short-sightedness on my part. And … that was why I said I needed to discover what you were really like."

"Yeah, well," Harry said again, feeling highly discomfited with being apologised to yet again. This new Snape was just too strange. Nice in a way, but very strange to take in.

"Anyway, I guess I just don't know how people will react to me now, and how I should feel about things. A lot which I've always taken for granted, has just turned on its head," he continued with a sigh, checking the teapot to avoid having to look at his father. The tea appeared to be done, so he started to put a cup together for himself.

"Tea?" he offered, when he felt that his composure was mostly restored.

Snape accepted a filled cup gracefully, but declined cream and sugar. He set it down in front of him, before returning his dark gaze to Harry.

"So what things do you feel differently about now?"

Harry sighed again. The tea had been a short reprieve only. "One of the worst things is the Potters. I can't even think of them as 'my parents' anymore, somehow. And I feel guilty for getting them killed. If they hadn't taken me in, _he_ would not have killed them."

"But if their child had lived, it likely would have been a target, anyway," his father told him earnestly. He could not deny the logic behind the statement. Because the prophecy _was_ awfully vague about which child was meant.

"And I would really like for you to keep thinking of Lily as a mother. She did take you in, she truly loved you, and she sacrificed herself for you as if you were her own flesh and blood. And she was, and will always be, in every way so much more worthy of the accolade of mother than Bellatrix could ever be."

Snape's gaze was serious. Harry found himself nodding in agreement.

"What about James Potter though?" he asked hesitantly.

Snape sighed and looked quite uncomfortable.

"I … do not honestly know. Because I cannot tell you if he ever knew that you were not his son. I just cannot picture him taking _my_ son as his own like this … but then I have never been fair or entirely rational about him. He probably grew up, and I just did not see it. Did not want to see it."

"But if he took you and knew it … he truly should be worthy of my admiration and gratitude. And if he did not know … he still obviously tried to be a good father for you at the very least. In either case he was your father for that time. And it would be most unfair and foul of me to take that away."

"Yeah … I guess so. But it's still difficult for me to keep thinking of them as parents, because I just can't _remember_ them. At all. I mean I was way too young to be able to remember them. So they've always been pretty … abstract to me. Plus I cannot like the way James and the others used to treat you. I mean that was bullying, plain and simple. Even if you did provoke them. But four to one just isn't fair. And Lily shouldn't have given up on you so easily either."

"But they made up for that when they helped me to hide you, surely?"

"How much of that was for your sake, and how much because their own child had just died and they wanted a replacement?"

This question got him a long, considering look from his father.

"What?" Harry snapped, feeling strangely judged and found wanting by that look.

"I must admit, I did not expect you to have quite such a cynical outlook on life," Snape admitted, frowning.

"Well, you said yourself that you don't really know me."

"Yes, and you just managed to reinforce that realisation."

Harry couldn't stop the bitter chuckle that welled up. "I guess there's a lot about me and my life that you don't have any idea about. And you are not alone in that. In truth, I don't know if there is anybody who really, like _really_ knows me."

"But surely your friends ..."

"No," Harry interrupted forcefully. "They don't really know me either. I mean, yeah, they know me better than most. They've been there for a lot of it, after all. But they don't have any idea what my life was like before I got to Hogwarts. Or know what goes on during the summers. And most of all, they can't see into my head. They don't know how I think and feel about things."

"And you never tried to tell them?"

"They wouldn't have understood. Ron … he grew up with this big, happy family. He can't even understand what it's like to be _lonely_. To have no-one who wants you. And then he gets jealous of me! And he's just so … thoughtless and inconsiderate at times. I mean, if you really want the model Gryffindor take someone like him."

"And Hermione … yeah, she is great. Brilliant even. And quite obsessive. And she can be horribly self-righteous at times. And she usually wants things done her way. And often she just can't understand that not all the answers can be found in a book. Or that there are things that just don't _have_ an answer. Or at least not a good one."

"They just can't understand what's it like to have a stupid prophecy looming over you, and having _him_ after you all the time. Knowing that you-know isn't going to give up until he gets me. Knowing that there isn't really any escape," Harry said, and ran his hands through his hair in agitation. He hardly noticed the curls this time.

"And neither of them understand about feeling _guilty_," he added. "To know that you are responsible for getting people killed, and that your presence puts even more people at risk. To know that being friends with someone makes them a target. I know that you always thought I was rash and careless, but I'm not really. Mostly I just didn't know what else to do, or who to turn to for help, and I just couldn't _not_ do anything."

"I know that doing the wrong thing can get people killed. But not doing anything gets people killed, too," he whispered dejectedly.

"I see ..."

"I don't even know why I'm suddenly telling _you_ all these things," Harry said, biting his lip. "Maybe because you are actually finally _listening_. And I've been wishing for a long time that you would do that. And because you do know things about me no-one else does."

"You know, last year," he gestured aimlessly. "You did see a fair few of the bad memories. And I guess I expect you to understand a lot more, what with you being a spy. You know what it's like to live under pressure. And not to trust anyone really, because you can never know who will turn on you," he added darkly.

"You do not really trust anybody, do you?" Snape asked softly.

"No, I don't. I've had too many people turn on me or betray me. Or just be simply unreliable. And now it's even worse. Because now I can't even trust in what I thought was true anymore," Harry's voice sounded horribly dead even to his own ears.

But it was the truth. The only one he had always truly relied upon, had been himself, and now that was possibly gone, too. Because he didn't quite know who he was anymore. Yes, it was only the circumstances that had changed, not himself. But those changed circumstances still cast a totally different light upon him. And in that new light, he just didn't know himself anymore.

"People I hated are suddenly my closest relatives. My parents weren't really my parents. Even if they still died because of me. And if I want to get through this alive, I will have to behave totally differently. I'll have to tell lies all the time. I'm going to have to loose what few friends I had. And keep even more secrets from everyone." He pulled his feet up and hugged them dejectedly.

"But the worst is ... her," he whispered.

"Why her? Why _her_ of all people? Of all the women who could have been my mother, why did it have to be her?" Harry turned desolate eyes on his father.

"I understand..." Snape started to say, but Harry interrupted him.

"Do you? I've kept blaming myself for Sirius' death, but ultimately it was her who killed him. And when I came face to face with her afterwards … I …" his voice broke. He hid his face behind shaking hands.

There was a sharp indrawn breath, and hands fell onto his shoulders. But the silky voice was gentle as his father asked the damning question: "What did you do?"

"Not so much what I did as what I failed to do. What I tried to do," he had to get the words out, he had to make the other understand how much he felt like tethering on the edge of Darkness. How tarnished he had been, even before this night's discoveries had hit him.

"I tried to crucio her," he finally whispered into the stillness.

The hands on his shoulders didn't leave him, but they clenched momentarily. He heard a soft sign.

"But you failed." It was a statement and a question all at once.

"Yes," he whispered. "She even laughed at me for it. I guess I'm just not cut out to enjoy the pain of others, even when I feel they deserve it. But I still tried, and now that I know that she really is … " his voice deserted him again.

"And I guess that is another reason why I feel … _tarnished_. Because now that I know I'm actually her _son_, and well … yours, it's … I don't know how to say it …" he dropped his hands to his lap, looked back into his father's concerned eyes.

"Try?"

"I can't help wondering if one can inherit a tendency to Darkness," he said bleakly. "Or insanity."

"No. Never think that. That is not something foreordained by parentage. And I did not leave the Dark behind for your sake only to let you fall into it, my son," Snape's voice had gone very deep and intense, and his hands now kept Harry from looking away.

"I will not let you fall. I will not," the other wizard's voice was so full of determination and promise that it took Harry's breath away. Staring into his father's dark eyes helplessly, he felt strangely reassured. Maybe it would be all right, maybe it would all work out. And maybe he wasn't lost already.

oOoOoOoOo

"Why did you join him in the first place, though?"

Severus Snape sighed. He had been expecting that question at some point. "Because I was young and stupid? And because the Dark Lord you have met is a pale shadow of what he used to be?"

The boy frowned, apparently dissatisfied with the answer.

"No, let me explain. He was not always so … crude in his methods. Once he was all about seduction. About giving people what they wanted, their deepest, and of course usually darkest desires. He is a master Legilimens after all," Severus said, lost in old memories. "He used to take an _interest_ in people."

"Now he rules through fear … then … he actually managed to make people terribly proud of being loyal to him. Willing to sacrifice themselves for his sake. He was truly a master manipulator."

"As to what made me take the Mark? How about the desire to belong? The need to be accepted and praised for my accomplishments?" He cast his son a knowing look at seeing the youth blanch. "The burning desire for revenge?" He smiled ruefully. "I am afraid the Marauders, and the humiliation they caused me, did their share to drive me into his camp."

"I was also a Slytherin. Many of those my age there were his followers. Do not underestimate peer pressure, especially when it is combined with promises for things you want. And at first, his propaganda seemed … quite reasonable. And my dear father, who was a Muggle," Severus was watching the boy hard at that point and smiled sardonically at seeing his surprised start. "He gave me plenty of reasons to dislike Muggles, too. Oh yes, didn't he now," he laughed without any mirth.

"Take all that, combine it with an unfortunate interest in the Dark Arts … and I was a plum ripe for the plucking," Severus concluded, smiling sourly.

"And he realised of course that I had no real taste for torture and killing. But to be praised and valued for my skill with potions, laced with some mild Muggle baiting … yes, that nicely brought me into the fold. And once you start down that road …" he sighed, eyed the boy to see if he would understand.

"It is what even Muggle armies do. Desensitisation. Start out small, and if you are careful, you can in the end get humans to do just about anything in order to please an authority figure."

"Did you ..."

"No. Though I should say that the reason I didn't go too far down that road was probably the lingering influence of Lily. Or that maybe I am just not the kind of person who would ever willingly torture and rape and derive pleasure from it. But I do not know. In the end, circumstances brought me to my senses. Or brought me desperation, you could say. If not … maybe I would have fallen," he said, looking sad and horrified at some inner vision. "It was even possibly your birth that saved me."

"I still do not know what exactly happened. I likely never will. But I don't see her willingly bear a son out of wedlock, unless it was for some nefarious plan of the Dark Lord's," he sighed wearily. "Which means it is likely she came to me with accusations, or else simply for a potion to end the pregnancy. And I … possibly forced her to continue it? I must have been desperate."

"Do you think she ever wanted me?"

Severus sighed again. "There is no way we will ever know, unfortunately. Those memories are gone for good. We do not really know anything that happened. It's very likely that it was me who brought you to the Potters, and we do know I am your father. But all the rest ... it will probably always remain a mystery. I am sorry." He knew that his eyes were sad. The boy was looking back at him earnestly.

"Why didn't you try and keep me and raise me yourself?"

"I was a Death Eater, about to throw myself on the mercies of Dumbledore and the Order. I was young. I knew nothing of raising children. And as much as I suspect I wanted you _safe_, and cared for, I very much doubt I had the capacity to do so myself. I hardly qualify as a suitable parent even now. I was likely terrified, and desperate. And once I handed you over to Lily, I lost all memory of your as my son. From that moment you were the son of my best friend, whom I had lost, and my school-day nemesis."

"Do you wish it could have been different, though?"

"I don't know. If I had kept you, you might have been raised as Bella's child. Or killed by the Dark Lord. At best I could have run and hid somewhere abroad. None of that strikes me as very good possibilities," Severus tried to explain himself to the dark, questioning eyes of his son.

"But do I wish I could have had a loving wife, and raised you together with her happily, without the Dark Lord to worry about? Certainly. But I might as well wish for paradise." He shook his head. "The circumstances were against both of us from the start."

"We can only try and do our best with what we are given. And the two of us were handed a very bad hand, I fear," he mused, eyeing the boy contemplatively.

"But it is a new game now, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Shall we see about winning it together?"

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming! I'm starting to understand why authors keep asking for them, though, they _are_ kind of addictive. There should be a few more updates in the next couple of weeks, but after that they will slow down, because I'll have posted most of the pre-written material I have.


	6. La Madrugada

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

oOoOoOoOo

They had all gathered again in the sitting room, settled around a table with Harry's tray of tea in the middle. As well as his birthday presents, still unopened. He stared at them. The others took their tea, chatting idly about some point of logistics. So he fixed himself another cup as well. It was something to do with his hands. His eyes strayed to the presents again. There were more than he would have thought. After all, none of the guests expected for his birthday party were likely to have sent him anything. He took a careful sip of tea and then started investigating the pile of presents.

It turned out that the extra presents were all from D.A. Members. He felt a bit conflicted about that. On the one hand, it was uplifting to know they thought well enough of him to remember his birthday. That he had made a lasting impression. But on the other hand, it reminded him that the D.A. was now likely a thing of the past, and so he would see most of them only from a distance. Though maybe … they could start up some new club officially, now that the toad was gone? And he would have 'Dora on the 'other side' to help set it up and include Corvus. He was after all supposed to be rather the expert on Defence stuff. He'd have to think about it. And see whether the others would accept Corvus, of course. He sighed, and opened his presents at last.

Dean Thomas had sent him a Gift Certificate for Zonko's, and a funny card with best wishes. Susan Bones had gotten him a box of chocolate frogs and informed him that she had told her aunt about Harry's teaching, and that if she did well on her O.W.L.'s he would be to blame. Or rather thank. Colin Creevey's present was a photo album full of pictures taken at the D.A. sessions. And Lavender Brown had knitted him a shawl. In red, with blue and yellow borders. The message was kind of clear. Yesterday it would have been perfect. Today … it was complicated. He found himself staring at it far too long. And looked up to see Snape watching him, with a calculating expression.

He quickly looked down again; put the thing aside. Parvati and Padma together had sent him a book on wizarding etiquette. Which was a rather … suggestive present, given his social botch-up at the Yule Ball. On the other hand, it would now be dead useful for Corvus Black. Hannah Abbot had found a cute plush toy of a white owl for him, with huge, soulful eyes. Terry Boot had gotten him a leather bound lesson-planer with lovely tooling. And Cho Chang had gifted him a book as well. Only it was a collection of poetry. He … would have to look at that later.

The last two presents were from people he had kind of expected something from. There was a big box from Neville, with carefully packed plant seedlings. His friend had obviously heard Harry was staying at Grimmauld Place, and that the garden there was overgrown and in need of restoring. He reckoned his gardening skills would be up to the task. Plus it might give him something to do when he needed to relax. If he was ever given time to relax, since it looked like they really wanted to fill up his schedule for the rest of the holidays.

The final one was from Luna. It was carefully wrapped in soft tissue, and had a rather peculiar shape. It turned out to be a beautifully crafted dream-catcher. His no-longer aunt had gotten Dudley one of these, after the disaster with the Dementors. Which had, admittedly, scared his no-longer cousin badly enough that he had been suffering from nightmares afterwards. The thing hadn't really helped, as far as he knew. But this one felt magical. And it was scary. Because Luna, strange little Luna had sent him one made with raven feathers. And smoothly polished pieces of obsidian in between the black strings.

Black stone, black strings. And raven feathers. Corvus Black. His hands were trembling as he held it up. How could she have known? And this had been sent before his birthday, too. A hand gently touched his arm. He looked up to meet Remus' concerned gaze.

"What's the matter, Cub? You look like you have seen a ghost?"

He gave the thing a light shake, which sent the feathers dancing. Which drew Remus' attention, and caused him to gasp. The werewolf clearly knew what it was meant to be, and the symbolism of the materials was kind of … obvious, he thought.

"How did she know this was going to happen?" Harry asked, his voice choked.

"Who sent this?" Remus asked, gently touching one of the feathers.

"Luna," Harry replied, staring at the gently spinning construction.

"Ah, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore commented, setting his empty teacup down carefully. "I have sometimes wondered, if that girl doesn't have a touch of real seer about her. Not the kind to make grand prophecies, but one of those who often seem to know just a little bit more about things than they should be able to. Of course with her tendency for … oddness it is a bit hard to tell most of the time."

"Hmm," Remus agreed, carefully studying the dream-catcher. "Though while this is in a way quite subtle, it is simultaneously rather obvious. I mean … black and raven feathers?"

Snape was now also checking the thing, and he had taken his wand out. He was frowning at it, clearly concerned about something. "There appears to be some charm on it. May I?" he asked his son.

"As long as it won't damage it, go ahead," Harry replied, still feeling a bit dazed.

Snape waved his wand in a complicated pattern over the dream-catcher, intoning a short chant in Latin. Harry only caught a few words he recognised from other spells. The result was a softly glowing cloud which enveloped the fragile construction of string and feathers completely for a moment before it disappeared again. Snape's frown vanished and was replaced by a considering look.

"You appear to have a good friend in Miss Lovegood," he said, giving Harry an unreadable look. "Not only does she appear to be oddly … perceptive, but this thing also has a couple of charms on it which are meant to help with sleeping and warding off bad dreams. Which means that, unlike its more mundane counterparts, this dream-catcher will actually work … up to a point."

"Up to a point?" Harry asked, getting up from the couch to hang it carefully from a picture-frame. This one appeared to be a landscape still-life, so there was no danger of upsetting any distant Black ancestors.

"There is an obvious limit to the effectiveness of such charms. Especially given the often violent nature of your nightmares and visions. But it should help, nevertheless. At the very least it will not harm, and be decorative," he added idly, returning his wand to his sleeve.

"Anyway, if you are done with your presents … I believe there are a few more things to sort out," he finished, now sounding a bit impatient.

Harry rolled his eyes, and settled back down onto the couch. Then again, it _was_ getting late. Or early.

oOoOoOoOo

"Right, where were we. Ah, yes. I'm afraid that you will need to be sorted. It would look really suspicious, if we were to just put you in Gryffindor. I mean, why would we put the son of Bellatrix and presumably some unknown Death Eater in that house after all. But if the Hat publicly sorts you there, no one can argue with it," Professor Dumbledore advised Harry gently.

"Indeed. Knowing what we do now, I cannot help wonder how a son of mine and _that_ witch ended up in Gryffindor in the first place," Snape drawled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry hung his head. "I doubt I will be in my old house again," he said, trying to sound unconcerned, and let his gaze drift over to meet Snape's … his _father's_ eyes. Who arched an eyebrow in question. The headmaster, by contrast, was looking altogether too gleeful, but then he had known for a while about Harry's history with the Sorting Hat. Remus just appeared mildly puzzled.

"And what makes you think the Hat will not put you into Gryffindor again?" Snape finally asked, when Harry didn't immediately elaborate.

Harry felt himself blush. He shifted around on his seat and nervously looked away.

"Because it did not want me there in the first place," he admitted softly. "It thought I should go to … Slytherin instead. It claimed I would do well there, and that the house would help me achieve greatness and stuff like that," he added.

"And you … refused it?" Was there actually an edge of … hurt in his father's voice?

"Yeah. I … ended up begging it to put me somewhere else," he said. Great explanation, Mr. ... Black. That likely made it worse.

"You see, Malfoy had just been sorted there," he added in a rush. "And I had a bad encounter with him on the train. And I was told that Voldemort had come from there, and all the really bad wizards," he finished, feeling breathless.

"I … see," Snape said, disapproval heavy in his tone. It was kind of obvious that he took Harry's rejection of his House at least partially as a personal rejection. Only it had happened _then_. Not now.

"Oh, I know better now. It was really quite stupid. But when you are eleven, and haven't got a clue about … well anything … of the place you are suddenly at, and the only people who have been kind to you tell you stuff … it's hard not to believe it?" He finally dared to look back at … his father.

"Anyway, you should realise by now I'm hardly the model Gryffindor," he challenged, staring into dark eyes. "So I doubt the Sorting Hat would want to put me there a second time."

Snape's face was still unreadable, closed off.

"So," Harry sighed unhappily. "I'm not overjoyed at the idea of joining Slytherin, but I'm pretty sure that's where I will end up … this time." He watched his father's face carefully.

"It should make things easier, too," he added, trying to find some way to diffuse the tension.

"I mean, I don't know if I could keep up the pretence, if I was constantly around my old friends," he explained. "It would be so much harder not to slip up, and show that I know things Corvus Black couldn't possibly know, if I was around them all the time. And I would really like to tell them, but I also know it would be a really bad idea," he admitted.

"Yes, it would be," Snape agreed, his eyes still hard. "But I dare say I can … understand your reasons."

"However, if you are sure you will end up in _my_ house this time," he drawled, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "It will make it easier for me to protect you and keep a close eye on you. Which I am sure will please _both_ of my masters," he added sardonically.

"And I dare say I could come to develop a … quite different official relationship with one of my Slytherins, than to some strange Gryffindor," he allowed, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry drew a shaky breath. It felt like some great cliff had been negotiated. There had been some minor scraps and dents, but the waters ahead, while still choppy, looked more manageable.

oOoOoOoOo

"What about my scars though?" Harry asked after a few more minor details had been seen to.

"Hmm, layered glamours. Cast by all of us. That should make them nearly impossible to see through. And we are only trying to hide one small area, which will strengthen the glamours. And maybe with a layer of Muggle make-up added for good measure."

Snape inspected his son critically. "If we can keep the hair out of your face altogether, it would be for the best. And you do not need your glasses anymore, so that element is gone ... though how and why Lily managed to give you bad eyesight ..." he shook his head in puzzlement. "_That_ was taking the 'make you look like James' thing way too far."

Harry couldn't have agreed more. That was one silver lining to this whole disaster. No more glasses.

"What did you mean by 'scars' in plural, though?' Trust his father the spy to pay attention. Harry sighed and put his right hand down flat on the table. That scar had not gone away either. I shall not tell lies. Now more than ever, he was going to tell lies. Lots and lots of lies.

The other three were all staring at the back of his hand. In the gloom the letters were hard to make out, and so Harry wasn't surprised when Snape grabbed his hand and inspected it closely.

"How," he snarled angrily. "Did you come by _that_?" His father … his _father_ … seemed to be most displeased. Harry couldn't help smile slightly.

"Detention with Umbridge. She had this quill …" he didn't get any further.

"She used a _blood quill_ on my students?!" Albus Dumbledore didn't look like everyone's grandfather anymore. Right now he looked furious enough to draw and quarter the witch in question on the spot. And the other two looked quite ready to assist him.

"If that's what it was … I wasn't the only one. Just the one she used it on the most, I guess."

"And you never told anyone about it?" The three adults still looked thunderous. Not to mention murderous.

"I tried to tell Professor McGonagall about it. But she just told me to keep my head down. Dunno if she really realised about the quill though ..." He didn't want to see his Professor in trouble because of this. Those three looked like they had a lot of thunder to share around right now.

"If Minerva had known about it, she would have ripped that woman to bits," Snape commented, his eyes hard. "And I am appalled to find just how _much_ you have managed to keep from me … from us."

"Ehm … I guess so?" Harry admitted.

"Anyway … can you do anything about the scar?" he asked hopefully, trying to diffuse the thunder again.

Snape went back to inspecting the scar carefully. He finally took out his wand and cast a few spells over Harry's hand, which enveloped it in glowing clouds and made it feel itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch.

His father finally sighed and shook his head. "I am afraid not. It's a curse scar, like the other," his eyes flicked towards Harry's forehead. "And it has been repeated over and over again, which deepened the damage to an unholy extent. We can only try to hide it ..."

"Which will be tricky, as glamours do not hide touch well at all," Remus concluded, with worry in his voice.

"Yes, so anybody who touched his hand would feel it," Snape admitted in a sour tone of voice. "I do not know what else we can do though."

"So glamours and I wear gloves a lot?" Harry offered finally when none of the others said anything more.

"At best a short time solution," Remus commented, frowning. "I have a vague idea about something … which might be painful though," he warned at seeing Harry's hopeful expression. "I will have to look into it."

oOoOoOoOo

"Oh, one last thing," Harry said to the headmaster when it looked like things were about to break up. He had had to stifle several yawns in the last few minutes.

"Yes, dear boy?" Dumbledore asked him kindly.

"Well, I mean, there were supposed to be those blood wards on Privet Drive, no? Dunno how they worked in the first place, since I'm not actually related to Aunt Petunia after all … but with all this, isn't it possible they stopped working altogether?"

The headmaster looked at him gravely. "That is possible, yes. And you are right, they should not have worked unless … well Lily and Petunia _were_ sisters, and since it was Lily's sacrifice which enabled them … as long as Petunia thought you were her relative they still worked? I will have to examine this."

"But I take it you are worried that they have fallen and your … ehm … Lily's relatives are now in danger from Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head sideways in question.

Harry simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He didn't like the Dursleys. Asking for anything for their sake felt a bit wrong. But they didn't deserve what Voldemort would do to them. Nobody deserved that, not even his tormentors. And he might not care about them, but he certainly didn't want their deaths on his conscience, either.

"I will go and check, and if the wards are truly gone, we shall move them for now. And see about establishing some other means to protect them. And I am proud of you that you still concern yourself for them, even if they were not really your relatives," the old wizard said, smiling at Harry.

"Yeah well," he said, feeling uncomfortable. He just didn't deal well with praise. "I wouldn't wish Voldemort on anybody. So if you can see that they are safe, that would be good. Aside from that, I really don't want to see them ever again."

"All right, Harry. Or maybe I should start calling you Corvus," Dumbledore said gently, with a sad look in his eyes.

Harry squirmed. It wasn't his fault he could not like them better. The Dursleys had only their own behaviour to blame for that.

"Yeah," he agreed. "At least from tomorrow on. Today I'll still have to be Harry Potter."

And Harry Potter collected his dream-catcher from the picture-frame, and went up to bed.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus was looking after his son with a thoughtful expression.

"We should get some rest ourselves," Albus advised from behind him. The old wizard sounded rather weary.

"If I can sleep. There is … a lot to think about," he sighed. The boy's life was not the only one which had been turned upside down within just a few hours. The boy. He should really start thinking of him as Corvus. Which was better than … Harry.

"You talked with him earlier, didn't you?"

"Yes. It was … enlightening. And just a bit frightening, too. I always thought him the self-confident, thick-headed Gryffindor. Instead I find he has the most fragile self-esteem, and serious trust issues. And he is rather more cynical than I would ever have thought."

"And that worries you, doesn't it?"

"Shouldn't it? Given how much like me he has turned out to be, and what road I nearly went down when I was his age? And he told me that he already feels … tarnished. He even asked me if a tendency to Darkness and insanity was inherited."

"Given all that has happened to him recently, do you find that terribly surprising? Which is why he really needs someone to guide him now. Else he will slip into depression, or worse, temptation."

"Albus, do you seriously believe that he is more susceptible to the Dark now?" Severus exclaimed, horrified. He had not expected his mentor to actually agree with his fears.

Albus Dumbledore would not meet his eyes.

"Yes and no," the older man's answer was evasive. "I do not think he is, just because of who his parents are, no. Certainly not that, dear Severus. But I do believe he is more vulnerable to self doubt, and to feelings of upset and distrust because the foundations of his world have been badly shaken. He never had much stability in his life, and what little he had, has now been taken from him. Plus he is a teenager, those are always bundles of hormones."

"And while he did not inherit … evil or even Darkness from his mother, she probably bequeathed him a certain tendency towards … mental instability. And Severus, this is not meant as a slight, but … your mother had her own brand of that, too, while your father was a rather violent and temperamental man." Albus' eyes sadly watched the flush of shame and anger cross the features of the younger wizard.

"Add your own temper, as well as your stubbornness and contrariness, which he seems to have inherited to some degree. Then mix in a bad upbringing by magic hating Muggles. And finally finish it off with having had a big shock, which turned everything he thought he knew about his background to dust," he continued seriously. "Tell me, what kind of potion would you brew from that?"

"A rather explosive one. Explosive and corrosive." Severus turned his face away. "Albus, how am I supposed to deal with this? With him?"

"The good thing is that the boy has basically an optimistic personality. In truth, I do not know where that came from, but it just shows that we are not doomed to be like our forefathers. And despite all that has happened to him, and his lack of trust in humanity, he can still be amazingly forgiving."

"Yes," Severus agreed with a sigh. "Which keeps surprising me. Mind, he got upset and resentful at me several times. But aside from that, he seemed quite willing to look beyond the past and actually trust me to some extent. In fact, I gained more confidences of his, and insights into him, than I would ever have thought possible so quickly," he shook his head in wonder. "And all for the price of simply listening to him without judging. Of asking questions without rancour. For showing simple interest and understanding."

"To be honest, I am surprised by how quickly _you_ came around," Albus said, giving him a searching look.

Severus snorted and looked away uncomfortably again. "I was shocked into it mostly. And it's not as if I did not have plenty of evidence over time that the boy was really nothing like what I wanted to see. And now that has all crashed down and left me no other way out but admit that I was wrong."

"It's not as if I have suddenly discovered that I 'love my son' or something," he sighed wearily. "But I just cannot deny him. I cannot reject him. He is in this world because of me, because of me he grew up thinking himself a Potter, because of me he has had a pretty bad life, because of me he is now in this situation."

He met Dumbledore's eyes. "How can I deny my responsibility for his life? He did not ask for any of this!"

Albus nodded in guilty agreement. "Between all of us, we have certainly managed to make life unpleasant for him."

"Indeed. I cannot but feel horribly guilty. How could I end up mistreating him for being James' son … when he is mine? He really did not deserve most of what I dished out to him. And I feel even more guilty because there were too many people who tried to tell me I was wrong … and I never wanted to listen."

"Crucifying yourself over it will help no one now, though," Albus advised gently. "We all made mistakes. The only way to deal with them now, is to make amends. We cannot change the past. But we can try to create a better future."

"So I keep telling myself. I might even start to believe it eventually," Severus agreed morosely. "And I also feel rather … proud of him."

"Proud?"

"I am quite surprised by how well he is handling this situation. Granted, he is likely still in shock, too, but … from a normal teenager you would expect complaints, hysterics, raging against fate …. he just takes it and tries to move on."

"We have not left him much room to be otherwise. There was never anyone in his existence who would have listened to him. And he had little control over his life so far."

"What child truly does, Albus? The real difference is that his fate has been troubled, unpleasant and dangerous by comparison to 'normal' children."

"Yes. I am afraid he truly does not think of himself as 'normal' at all," Dumbledore admitted sadly. "For which I am largely to blame. I should never have left him with those Muggles … and later I should have shielded him better from the reactions he got in our world."

"You should have, yes. Just as I should have done many things differently. But you know what makes me feel really ashamed of myself? That despite all that, he is still capable of accepting me, of somehow actually _wanting_ me," Severus said disbelievingly.

"Just remember this when his good behaviour eventually runs out," Albus reminded him. "No doubt once he is over the worst shock he will rebel and test whatever boundaries you set him."

Severus sighed but nodded his agreement. "Oh, without doubt he will do so. But I do not think that I will be able to forget what I owe him. As things stand now, he is a walking guilt trip to me."

Albus sighed and smoothed his beard. His eyes looked very tired. "Well, we shall cross that bridge when we reach it. Right now I need some sleep though. There is much to be done later today. I bid you a good night … as much as is left of it."

Severus Snape watched the headmaster disappear through the floo, staring sightlessly at the fire for a few minutes afterwards. No doubt the future would sort itself out. But what a difference a mere few hours could make in changing it beyond belief ...

oOoOoOoOo

A little while later he was safely back in his own quarters. He set himself to re-examine what he knew of his newly discovered son in light of all he had learned about Corvus during this long night. Because if you removed what he had taken to be Potter traits, a very different picture emerged. He now also knew that the Hat had considered the boy as a potential Slytherin. And that he was quite adept at hiding things, at presenting a false mask to fool the whole world. And underneath that mask … it seemed they had a great deal in common indeed.

No, the boy was definitely not the golden Gryffindor. That had always been just a pretence, he suspected. And together with what he had gone through recently, it was no wonder he felt tarnished, and at the edge of Darkness. In fact, it was a demonstration of his character that he had not fallen in yet. There seemed to be something eternally _pure_ about the boy, some quality that allowed him to overcome hardships and temptations, and still emerge essentially the same. And amazingly willing to forgive.

That, he would never have expected. How easily the boy had opened up to him. How merely _listening_ to him had earned Severus confidences that the boy likely had not shared with others before. And how desperate he was for reassurance. Albus had been quite right, the boy badly needed a parental figure in his life. And not even for love. It was for understanding. For comprehending what it was like to stand at the edge of the abyss, and yet turn your back on it and walk away. And to be wanted and accepted despite feeling unworthy of it.

Yes, he understood the boy much better than he would have thought possible. Now that he was applying his own character and reactions as the basis, and not James'. They were in many ways horribly alike. No wonder they had clashed so much, when he had treated the boy like James. Treated someone who reacted a lot like himself, as if he were someone who was almost the polar opposite. No wonder the boy kept blowing up at him. It must have felt terribly unfair.

How easily they could have gotten along instead … if he had not been blinded by his hatred for a dead man. And maybe a lot of things would have been different, if only he had listened with an open mind. But at least it seemed that listening now was still worth something. Maybe it would not be so very difficult at all. Because against all expectations, beyond all reasons to the contrary, his son still wanted him as a father.

It was amazing. And almost frightening.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry stared at his reflection in the mirror. His own reflection. Only it was still a stranger who looked back at him. Corvus Black. He was Corvus Black. Harry Potter was a lie. Had always been a lie. He was Corvus Black, son of an insane murderess, and an unpleasant git of a father whom he had strongly disliked until ... a few hours ago, really. There seemed to be no room left for that dislike anymore. He pressed his forehead against the cool, flawed surface of the old mirror. The night was slowly ending, the dawn was creeping in. He closed his eyes in desperation. Because the nightmare never would. He lived the nightmare now.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Uff, this long night is finally finished. It only took me about 25k words to tell a tale of about five hours worth of time … and I ended up with one more chapter than originally planned, too. Mostly due to Severus and Harry just wanting to talk more with each other …

La madrugada is the Spanish word for dawn/those late hours of the night just before dawn. I have always found the word oddly fascinating, so I couldn't resist using it as the chapter heading.

mizzrazz72: Yes, she will likely not be pleased. :)

Harry could get into his vault with the key that Hagrid gave him of course. If there are other Potter vaults, he will likely loose those, though. On the other hand, he will definitely inherit the Black money, and that is supposed to be a fortune, too. So no matter what, Corvus isn't going to be a pauper anytime soon.

(R!):Your reviews did actually make it, I just had the setting for guest reviews on 'pending approval for the first 36 hours'. I've changed that now. Thanks for the kind words, they caused me to have to update my profile. ;)

No I'm Sirius: thanks for the assorted approval ;)

adenoide: This story will be about Harry going to Hogwarts under a different name and looks.

If I were to tell the story of how Harry went elsewhere to train, it would read something like this: Harry goes abroad to train, meets a lot of OCs that I can't be bothered to invent in detail, gets trained to superawesome levels, comes back and kills Voldie, and everyone lives happily ever over. There, story finished. And sorry, that is just not the kind of story I want to write. :)


	7. Birthday Boy

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

He woke up after a few hours of rather restless sleep, still feeling emotionally wrung out. Strangely the events of the night were all very clear in his memory. Which meant that at least he was spared a repeat of the feelings of dread as he realised, that yes, it was all true. He knew right away it was all true. He also did not want to get up and face the awful reality of his new-found identity.

But he knew someone would come and get him if he didn't show up soon. The lack of sunlight, which usually made the heavy drapes shine oddly in the morning hours, indicated that it had to be approaching noon. And so he pushed the covers away and sat up. Toes fishing for the slippers under the bed, he grabbed his glasses. Stared at them and put them back down again with shaking hands. Right. No need for glasses anymore. So he got up and opened the drapes and busied himself with looking for what he would wear today. On what would essentially be his last day as Harry Potter. Because tomorrow he would have to start being Corvus Black instead.

Corvus Black. He turned the name over on his tongue, felt its strange weight. He didn't actually mind the Black. It reminded him of Sirius, and it was easy enough to imagine that his godfather had adopted him. Only of course Sirius was dead. Dead. Gone forever. And the people who were most responsible for his death were … himself … and his mother. He shuddered and felt despair starting to well up. He squashed it resolutely. Best not to go down that lane. He turned his mind to the other half of his new name instead.

Corvus … now that was an unusual name. Of course, after a few years of astronomy, he knew it was a constellation, like Orion and Sirius and Regulus. Quite a typical name for his family, really. He wondered if Bellatrix had been the one to chose it. And what it meant if she _had_ actually named him. Corvus was also the Latin word for raven. The black bird of ill omen. So ... he was the Black Raven. And ill omens had followed his life from the start. Child of a dire prophecy, his … adoptive parents murdered because of him. Plenty others as well who had died for or because of him since. A fitting name for him, then.

He stared at the faded jeans in his hands, slowly took a black T-Shirt from the shelves. Black would suit his maudlin thoughts, he decided. He just didn't feel cheerful right now. And all too soon he would have to pretend to be. Merlin, how could he make it through this day? The Weasleys and Hermione were due to arrive after lunch, for an afternoon spent happily together. Chatting, talking about their summer so far. What plans they had for the rest of it. Harry Potter would have looked forward to his birthday party, to seeing his friends again. But Harry Potter had not really made it through the night. He sighed heavily and rested his head against the wardrobe, closing his eyes in defeat.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs and along the corridor, making the old wood creak. He opened his eyes again, and reluctantly turned to face the door which opened after a knock. Remus stuck his head inside and his face clouded in concern when he spotted Harry leaning dejectedly against the wardrobe.

"Oh Cub," he said softly, crossing the distance between them swiftly and drawing Harry against him to give him a hug.

"I ..." he broke off in frustration. "I wish I could tell you that everything will be all right. But that will not help you right now, I know. I want to ask you if you _are_ all right," he continued, hugging Harry harder.

"But I know that you likely are not. I want to wish you a Happy Birthday … and I do … but I know it will probably feel like a farce of one to you. This is not a birthday present I would wish on anyone, least of all you." Remus gave him another squeeze, and then just held Harry, gently stroking his tousled hair.

Harry had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to keep from crying at the sympathy in the werewolf's voice. Remus was just too right. And all this was not really that much of a big deal in a way … and at the same time it was. Terribly so. Because it changed everything. His life was now a lie, or rather had been one before and now wasn't anymore. Only now he would have to lie to all his friends, and pretend to be … who he was. Harry Potter had no reality, but neither had Corvus Black. Not yet, at least.

"One day at a time," he heard Remus say. "You have to take it one step after the other. Try not to think about it too much. There is nothing you can really do about it, and over-thinking will not help. Just concentrate on getting though this day. Tomorrow will sort itself out. Things _will_ get easier. And we are all here for you. You will not be on your own."

He tilted Harry's head up. "Come on. One step at a time. And today you are Harry Potter, eager to meet your friends and celebrate your birthday. Just think about that. The rest does not matter right at the moment," he stated, looking intently at Harry.

Harry nodded after a moment. He could do that. He lined the words up in his mind, set them to repeating like a mantra. He was Harry Potter, eager to meet his friends. He was Harry Potter, who would now go and take a bloody shower. Harry Potter would get dressed in Harry Potter's clothing. Harry Potter then would have lunch with his teachers. He screwed up his face. Harry Potter would bloody well do this. Harry Potter would go and bravely face what looked to be the last day of Harry Potter. And Harry Potter would not cry like a baby just because he didn't know anymore who he was.

He pushed himself away from Remus, nodding again. "Right," he said, looking for his wash bag while fishing his clothes from the floor, where they had ended up when Remus had grabbed him.

"I'll be down after a shower," he said simply, not trusting himself to say more.

Remus studied his face for a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "You _can_ do this," was all he said before he left.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Half an hour later Harry Potter, cleaned, dressed and combed – the long, curly hair was a nuisance he had decided, even if it was more manageable – went downstairs. He had avoided looking into the mirror as much as he could. It was hard being Harry Potter when you didn't _look_ like Harry Potter. Which meant he should probably have a good long session with his reflection after they put the glamours on him.

He didn't really feel hungry, as his stomach still felt in knots from … no. He would not think of the night. Harry Potter would not think of it, and instead go and eat lunch. He pushed the kitchen-door open and felt his stomach do another slow turn as he saw the three men waiting for him. Remus was fine of course, and Dumbledore was giving him another one of his fond smiles. But Harry's eyes were drawn involuntarily to the third man, as usual dark and forbidding even though he wore comparatively light robes. Still black ones, of course. Severus Snape's face was a study in careful neutrality.

So. He could do this. Harry Potter would go and talk with Corvus Black's father, who just happened to be a teacher that Harry Potter did not like very much. But he could be polite and just not think about things. As he stood in the doorway, vacillating, he watched a frown form on his … Professor Snape's face. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Apparently Harry Potter couldn't do this after all.

"Harry? Are you all right?" he heard Dumbledore ask in concern. Harry realised his hands were trembling slightly. He opened his eyes again, fixed them on the dark-haired man whose face had gone unreadable and shuttered. Disregarded the others.

"Sir? Could I speak with you for a moment?" he forced himself to say, trying hard to keep his voice even. Watched suspicion and maybe even a trace of hurt go through Snape's eyes. Drat, he had forgotten about the 'sir' again. But the other man assented and got up, moving to the door gracefully. Harry backed up and perched himself on the stairs, aiming his eyes resolutely on the banister. He heard the door close. And drew a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, trying to forestall the other from speaking. "I ….. today I need to be Harry Potter. And I can't think of you, or anything that happened this night, or tomorrow even. If I do, I think I'll break down." The banister was rather dusty. His finger was drawing swirls in the dust.

"And I can't think of you … today … as anything but a teacher that Harry Potter doesn't really like at all." He knew that his voice was unsteady despite his best efforts. He didn't want to look at the other man. Didn't want to see his face or what he might read there. He waited.

"I understand," he finally heard after a lengthy silence. "I will leave after we have done the charms. Do not worry yourself," the voice was smooth, soft, blessedly devoid of criticism. He felt deeply grateful for that. "Tomorrow will be soon enough."

A hand touched his head gently in what almost felt like benediction. He leant into it, felt oddly comforted by the brief contact, and suddenly bereft when it left him again. But Harry Potter would not cry that he didn't have a father to comfort him, no sir. Harry Potter was used to that. Harry Potter would go and have lunch and then meet with his friends to celebrate his birthday. He followed his … teacher back into the kitchen.

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oOoOoOoOo

The next half hour had been fairly torturous. The three older men had immediately started with the charms, though they were eventually forced to use a pensieved memory to guarantee that he looked exactly like he should. Fortunately, the only parts of him affected were really his face and hair, which made their work easier. The way the charms had been carefully woven together by his teachers would hopefully reduce the risk of anyone penetrating their work. However, it had taken them several tries to get it just right. All the while Harry had been sitting there, staring fixedly at the broken handle of a kitchen cupboard. Running his Harry Potter mantra through his head.

He was aware that his … Professor Snape had given him some odd, thoughtful looks, but he had steadfastly refused to directly meet the other man's eyes. Instead he had concentrated on remembering past meetings with his friends, of happy moments and laughing together. On remembering Harry Potter's summer so far. A couple of weeks being bored and ignored at the Dursleys, and then here with Remus. Which was bad, because the house made him remember Sirius, but still better than stuck with his relatives. Harry Potter's relatives, he reminded himself. Corvus Black wasn't related to them _at all._ Which really meant no more Dursleys, ever. He perked up at _that_ thought.

When the three wizards had finally pronounced themselves satisfied with the result of their efforts, Professor Snape had excused himself and left. Which was perfectly all right with Harry Potter. Who would want the old bat from the dungeons spoiling their birthday after all? Harry Potter would totally ignore the way that his eyes stung. That was probably just the dust anyway. So he had gone and checked out his Harry Potter face in the bathroom, and then settled down to eat lunch.

Fortunately the other two had avoided the subject of the night before, or possibly his … Professor Snape had talked with them about Harry's problem. And a few hours and some new information should not really make _that_ much a difference about how he felt about the man. But thoughts and feelings were apparently really treacherous and didn't want to behave the way they should. Bastards.

.

oOoOoOoOo

And then he had been waiting nervously with Remus in the sitting room. The older man had tried to distract Harry with lively anecdotes from his travels on the continent. Harry had even laughed and enjoyed his favourite teacher's gentle jokes. But finally the floo flared and the Weasley clan descended on them, complete with Hermione. Mr. Weasley was unfortunately delayed at the ministry, and his two eldest sons couldn't get away from their work, either. Percy had not been invited in the first place.

Harry Potter was really happy to see them all. He was swept up in numerous hugs, heard exclamations of pleasure, endured being asked how he was and being congratulated on his birthday. And nobody seemed to notice that his answers were rather vague, or how often he turned their questions right back at them, asking about their summer instead. Aside from Remus, of course. He could feel the older wizard's eyes on him quite often, and his smile was reassuring whenever Harry turned to meet his eyes.

Harry Potter had the time of his life. He also had pastries, and sandwiches, and tea and Butterbeer and sweets, though he avoided everything the twins handed him. Because right now he was rather unsure about looking like anything but Harry Potter. But he laughed as Ron's hair turned green with purple stripes, and Hermione screamed in outrage at being turned blue with yellow polka dots. Smiled softly at Ginny who was retelling some of the twin's choicer escapades from this summer.

And then there were more presents. Really, he had never gotten so many presents in his whole life. Mrs. Weasley of course presented him with a new knitted jumper, and had brought a delicious looking cake with sixteen candles spaced evenly around it. The twins proudly presented him with a big box full of assorted prank items, which predictably did not go down too well with their mother. Harry suspected they would get a scolding later for leading him into temptation. If only all temptations were so harmless …

Ron had gotten him new quality gloves for Quidditch. Which was a nice present in itself, but yet another thing which reminded Harry of his impending loss. Because he would no longer be the Seeker for Gryffindor. Yes, his ban had been lifted, or so Dumbledore had told him. But he was not likely going to be in Gryffindor again. Not unless the Hat did the unexpected and insisted in putting him back there after all. And even if he should end up going back to the house of the Lions, he still wouldn't be Harry Potter, star seeker. Instead he would be Corvus Black, who likely wasn't too great at the game. Because he would have to hide his Quidditch talent to avoid comparison with Harry Potter.

Fortunately Ginny distracted him from his increasingly morose thoughts when she shyly offered him a small parcel gaily wrapped in colourful paper. The content made Harry smile again, as a small golden play-snitch escaped the wrapping. It hovered playfully in front of his nose, emitting charming twittering noises, before zooming rapidly about the room.

"It's charmed to respond to a few simple commands," Ginny explained. "Like 'come', 'follow' and 'avoid'. There are some instructions in the package. I'm afraid it's no good for training real Quidditch, but they are quite amusing and good for the reflexes."

Harry had to agree with her as he watched the antics of the small golden thing. It seemed to delight in hovering next to people's heads, only to dart away when they turned towards it. And the twittering sounded just like a small happy bird. He tried telling it to 'follow Ginny' and had to laugh as the redhead started a game of dodge with the little snitch. Yes, this was a good, happy gift. Something to make him smile.

Hermione gifted him with a dicta-quill. She thought that it would be useful for note taking, as it was charmed to write down spoken words exactly. Harry was pleased to find that it could be set to a specific handwriting. Because he would have to try to change the way he wrote. That had been another topic discussed … half a day ago. It just wouldn't do for anybody to recognise the handwriting of Corvus Black as that of Harry Potter. Fortunately he always had an untidy scrawl, so trying to write legibly instead would already go a long way to disguising his writing.

But if he could set the quill to write with his old handwriting … that would be useful. That way 'Harry' could continue to write letters to his friends. And maybe it would also be something for 'Dora to use when she had to do 'Harry's' homework. Though there might be a charm to take care of that instead. There were after all advantages to having an Auror impersonate you. And really there was an amazing number of things to take into account for their mad plan to work ...

Finally Remus had gotten him several advanced Defence books, which he tendered with a slightly apologetic smile.

"I'm afraid this is a rather boring present," he explained. "But I thought you might have use for them, what with your past extracurricular activities," he finished with a wink.

Harry just smiled at him happily and gave his teacher a hug. Naturally Hermione immediately wanted to check the books out, but Harry prevented her by laughingly holding them out of reach.

"Do you really want to spend my birthday reading my presents?" he asked her with a smirk. Which caused her to blush a bit uncomfortably and laugh ruefully.

"Well, you know me and books ..."

"Oh yes. Whoever you end up marrying will probably only ever have to worry about you eloping with a library," he teased her.

Which of course made her blush even harder.

And then they were lighting the candles on his cake. Harry looked at his friends while they sang him a birthday song and the candles flickered merrily. And tried not to feel his heart break at the thought that Corvus Black would only be seeing them from a distance.

Because Corvus had chosen having a father over having friends. At least for the foreseeable future. He might get new ones, of course. He couldn't really imagine making friends amongst the Slytherins, but he had to admit that he didn't know most of them that well. And not all of them were Death Eater spawn. Of course he was now essentially Death Eater spawn himself. He winced at the thought. Tarnished forever. But that was Corvus. Right now he was still … Harry Potter.

He met Remus' eyes across the room. Harry Potter could do this. And Harry Potter would now blow out the candles, and wish for … for …. everything to turn out all right. He blew as hard as he could. Watched the smoke spiral upwards. Saw Hermione giving him an odd look.

"You look like you need a break," she commented. "Lets grab some cake and go to the library."

Trust Hermione to associate libraries with places of well-being. He groaned inwardly, remembering what else was in the library. He followed her anyway, after accepting a slice of cake from Mrs. Weasley, who had taken over cutting it up. He was trying hard not to think of what lay ahead. He felt Remus' eyes on his back again as he left the room and turned for a moment, meeting the pointed look in the werewolf's eyes. But Remus just nodded at him calmly and smiled reassuringly.

The library was fairly dark even now, but with the windows open to the summer air it felt much less gloomy than … last night. And it was nice and quiet.

"This place is really getting to you, isn't it?" Hermione asked softly when he settled himself next to her on the deep window-seat.

"Or is it … Sirius, still?" she added hesitantly.

Trust the girl to come straight to the point, while missing it completely. He sighed. It was something he could let her believe. It was true, anyway. Just not all the truth. Not even the worst part of the truth, anymore. But still, not a lie.

And he could just imagine her reaction if he told her the truth: 'Hey did you know Bellatrix is my mum? No really, I'm her illegitimate love child with Snape. Why are you throwing up? Oh, and incidentally, Malfoy is now my cousin.' Yeah, that would go down really well.

"Yeah, it's been hard since … well you know," he allowed, letting his eyes drop and stalling a moment longer by taking a bite from his cake and chewing, while he worked out what to tell her. She looked sympathetic.

"I feel guilty, and upset, and my feelings are just such an awful muddle at times. It's hard being happy, if you know what I mean," he said, giving her a wretched smile. Let her blame any strange behaviour of his on that. He toyed with his spoon, took another bite. It was really excellent cake.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Harry," she said, touching his hand in entreaty. He refused to meet her eyes.

"I can't help it. If I had only listened to … people ... Sirius would still be alive, and none of you would have been hurt," he told her sadly.

"So why don't you try to do that more from now on? You know, in his memory?"

He froze. She was right, of course. Now more than ever. Harry Potter had messed up big time thanks to rushing in and not listening. Or rather listen to the wrong person … Voldemort. Corvus Black could really not afford to do that. He had a father that he needed to protect. He closed his eyes. Damn, but the library was dusty, too.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" he said hoarsely, keeping his stinging eyes closed. He couldn't let her see him cry.

"You really need to talk with someone about this," she said, her voice full of distress. "You are bottling everything up. You won't even let yourself cry." Curse her for being too perceptive at times.

"I just can't deal with it all right now, 'Mione," he finally admitted, listlessly scraping his spoon on the plate and staring out into the garden.

"There is just too much stuff going on," he added. "And it's just Remus and me here and he has been busy and … yeah, here is pretty dreadful to be at. But it's still much better than with the Dursleys," he finished quickly.

She sighed, clearly dissatisfied with him. Casting him sideways looks full of frustration. But there wasn't anything Harry Potter could do. Largely because as of today, there wasn't really such a person as Harry Potter anymore. And it was therefore time to introduce her to Corvus Black, offspring of infamous Death Eaters. He suppressed a shudder.

She was still looking at him reproachfully. So really, he couldn't be blamed if he got up and moved around the room restlessly, abandoning his half eaten cake on the window-seat. And if he ended up in front of the tapestry, absently poking at one of the burnt spots … well it was hanging there on the wall, wasn't it? Looking entirely innocent and blameless. He glared at it.

"Oh, leave the horrid thing alone. It hasn't done anything to you," Hermione chided. "And you can't vanish things by giving them the death glare either," she joked, pretending to shriek and duck out of his way when he whipped around and fixed the glare on her. He gave a short, strangled laugh and turned back to poke at Sirius' name. His face fell. And the pain he felt welling up wasn't fake, either.

If it had not been for Harry getting lured to the ministry, his godfather would not have gotten himself killed by Harry's … mother. Though of course she was really Corvus' mother. And how Sirius would have taken _that_ piece of news was anybody's best guess. He might have gone totally spare. Not only was Harry the son of his cousin Bellatrix, but also of Snape! His godfather had hated both of them with a passion. Would Sirius still have been able to accept him? Would he have been able to see past Harry's newly discovered parents? Or would he have disowned his godson along with them? Harry kept staring glumly at the name on the tapestry.

Unfortunately he would never know. But he wasn't very confident that Sirius would have been able to take this. He might have gone crazy. Might have totally flipped out. Because well, he had to admit to himself that Sirius had not been particularly stable, either. Really, he had to hope that both Bellatrix's and Sirius' … insanity and instability was due to both their extended stays in Azkaban. Because otherwise he would have to assume it ran in the Black line. And _that_ was not a good thought at all. He sighed unhappily.

Which finally lured Hermione over. He was starting to feel bad about that, too. He was playing her, manipulating her … when had he turned so very Slytherin? Well aside from the fact that the Hat had apparently been ever so right to want him there. He sighed some more and finally managed to pry his eyes away from Sirius' name. Instead he pretended to look the thing over listlessly. His eyes were carefully avoiding one particular spot, however.

Hermione was now actually carefully looking the tapestry over herself. "It's self updating, isn't it? I wonder what kind of spells are needed to manage that? And it all had to be woven into the initial design. Fascinating, really," she murmured breathlessly, her eyes glazing over with that look she normally reserved for particularly large and dusty volumes.

'Yes, 'Mione', he wanted to say. 'But kindly shift your gaze and notice that last little bit of self updating the tapestry did … less than a day ago, really. That little bit with the glamour over it to change the date. There. Just an inch to the right. No, don't get stuck on Malfoy, please. My cousin. Ugh.'

"The first time I saw Malfoy on here I nearly fainted," she commented, tracing the outline of his name. "To think that the prat is related to Sirius … it boggles the mind." 'Yes, it does. But kindly notice the _other_ Black related to Sirius, will you? The one who got him killed.'

"Hmm, what's that?" 'Finally!'

"Who is this? Harry? Have you ever heard of this … Corvus Black?" 'Yes, of course 'Mione, you are standing right next to him.'

"Who? What? Never heard of the guy. What about him?" he said, back to staring guiltily at Sirius' name and pretending that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about. He didn't want to lie to her, not really. But it came so easily, so natural it was almost frightening.

"Ehm, Harry? I think we need to tell Remus about this …" Hermione said slowly. 'No we don't. He already knows.'

.

oOoOoOoOo

Shortly afterwards the party was in an uproar. And Harry felt simultaneously proud _and_ ashamed of himself. Proud for having pulled the manoeuvre off flawlessly … _Hermione_ had been the one to discover the name, and she had easily bought his act of ignorance. And ashamed, because it had been an act, and he had pulled it off so well. And kept doing so when they all gathered around the tapestry to exclaim and look puzzled, or affronted, or shocked and generally were trying to make sense of it and how it would affect things. And what to do about it.

He felt like rolling his eyes. Wanted to tell them: 'Don't worry it's fine, we've got it all sorted out. And we know who the guy is. He's standing right here. Right here, lying to you with every breath I pretend to be Harry Potter.' He caught Remus' eyes. The werewolf looked pitying. And Harry Potter just rolled his eyes at him, because really, there was nothing to be done. Nothing that would make it better. He was just going to have to deal with it. One day at a time.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: It finally came to my attention that I had overlooked some crucial bits of time-line regarding the summer of 1996; as I had assumed that certain events (mostly Dumbledore's curse and Snape's vow) had happened later in the year. Instead they would already have taken place before Harry's birthday. Therefore the point where this story diverged from canon would be the end of the fifth school-year, with the exception of course being the hidden real parentage of Harry/Corvus.

During the summer some events started to work out differently:

Harry did not go to the Weasleys after his mandatory stay with the Dursleys, but instead went to live at Grimmauld Place together with Remus. Thus he also celebrates his birthday there and not at the Burrow. Dumbledore had earlier informed him about Sirius' will. It was, however, still contested because Sirius' name had not been cleared, leaving the way free for Corvus to assume the inheritance later.

Also frankly, I have never liked the Deathly Hallows. Therefore I had already decided, when I started writing this story, that I wanted to leave them out. Which means the headmaster was not tempted into stupidly putting on a cursed ring. And therefore he was not dying. Which also means that Severus Snape really didn't want to make the unbreakable vow to kill him, because it's one thing to put a dying man out of his misery, and another to kill him when he is perfectly healthy.

And so I assume he just weaselled out of making the vow, what with him being the head of Slytherin and supposedly quite cunning and all. If he could handle Voldemort himself, then he should really have been able to outmaneuver one distressed mother and her insane sister. Instead he simply ended up promising Narcissa that he would try and protect Draco to the best of his abilities. And there may well be another confrontation with Narcissa and Bellatrix about the matter … later.

Also Ollivander wasn't abducted because of the Elder Wand, but simply because Voldemort wanted a different one made to avoid the _priori incantatem_. And depriving the wizarding world of their most important wand-maker would certainly be an added bonus.

The reason I had to explain all this is simple: since I had assumed the thing with the ring and the vow would happen later, I could have worked it into the story directly. I already had such a lovely confrontation between Severus, Narcissa and Bellatrix all written up. Instead I now had to work out why that happened differently beforehand, which feels a bit like cheating. And oh dear, the 'thing with the ring and the vow' sounds like I'm talking about a wedding!

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Thanks to anybody who left a review. :)

TheSapphireGoddess: Harry is currently struggling badly with what happened to him … and well it's not even been a day. He really hasn't had any time at all to deal with things yet, and he has just had a nasty shock. It's no wonder he feels unbalanced. So if the story feels a bit depressing at this point, then I clearly have done my job! However, Corvus will be quite a bit more Slytherin than the canon version of Harry. Ravenclaw wouldn't really suit him at all, because at this point in life his main priority is survival, not studying for the enjoyment of learning.

adenoide: Which is of course probably the reason Mrs. Rowling introduced the Elder Wand. However, there are other ways to solve that particular problem. You'll just have to be patient and let me tell the story my way. ;)


	8. Plants and Prejudice

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

And then there were none. No more guests. They had all gone home after dinner, which Mrs. Weasley had put together out of pasta baked over with cheese, and a nice summer salad to go with it. Everybody had pitched in to help, with the exception of the twins who had been firmly shooed out by their mother, who obviously knew them too well. Meanwhile the talk had still been full of speculations about the mysterious Corvus Black, son of Bellatrix.

Somehow Harry had managed to make appropriate noises and appear involved in the discussion. And not give himself away by wincing or showing his dismay openly whenever Corvus got reviled simply for having Bellatrix as a mother.

Unfortunately, everyone clearly assumed he'd be evil and Dark, just like his mother. Even hints dropped by Remus that this might not be the case, and that maybe he knew something they all didn't, couldn't deter them from having an immediate bad opinion about the unknown Corvus.

It made Harry feel quite depressed. Because while he didn't have to join the chorus of ugly assumptions, he also couldn't defend himself against them. Couldn't tell them the poor guy was entirely innocent, and most definitely _not_ a junior Death Eater. And the one person least likely to ever, like _really_ ever, join Voldemort.

The worst had been Ron, of course. Which he'd kind of expected. Because if his friend was good at something, it was jumping to conclusions. He'd probably win contests in the discipline if there ever were any. As for speaking without engaging his brain first … Ron was also excellent at shooting his mouth off. And it was a shame, because he did have a good brain. If he bothered to engage it. Admittedly, his friend had gotten better over the years. No doubt partly because of Hermione's influence. But Ron still had a lot of growing up to do. Harry knew all that. Yet it had still hurt when his best friend had sprouted off nasty things about Corvus, just because of who his mother was.

But all he could do had been to look distressed, because fortunately no-one could tell _why_ he looked so upset.

The arrival of Mr. Weasley for dinner had not helped either. Not only did the man join the chorus straight away, he also brought the disconcerting information that Karkaroff, the old headmaster of Durmstrang, had been found dead. Which unfortunately reminded Harry of how Voldemort dealt with traitors. And when you had such a traitor for a father … you really didn't want to be reminded of that, no.

The one good thing was that Remus had been there to take control of the situation. The former teacher had made a convincing show of concern regarding the danger of Voldemort learning about Corvus. Because of that, everybody had grudgingly agreed to take a vow not to speak of the matter before they received Dumbledore's permission. Harry had felt much better afterwards. And nobody had noticed him not taking that vow. Sometimes they were really an unobservant bunch.

Altogether it had been a stressful end for his birthday party. But at least it was done now. Over. Accomplished.

And while he could have done without learning about the level of prejudice they were capable of, in a way it was also good to know about it. Because the knowledge would help when they inevitably had to meet Corvus. Whoever Corvus was going to be at that point, Harry or 'Dora, would really have to turn up the charm. And the sincerity. And leave no doubt that he wasn't, nor would ever be, on Voldemort's side. Because this lot was unfortunately way too prejudiced and judgemental to believe in his innocence, unless it was layered on with a trowel. Which was a depressing thought. Especially when he now considered their behaviour to be entirely Gryffindor, and just couldn't include himself in it.

.

oOoOoOoOo

When they'd finally left, Harry had quickly gone to change into his oldest things, and then collected the package from Neville. There was still an hour or two of daylight left, enough to put the seedlings into the ground. He also took the toy snitch with him, setting it free into the still warm evening air. The joyful, happy twittering sounds it made were a lovely contrast to the ugly words he had listened to earlier.

Still standing in the doorway, he surveyed his derelict realm. Overgrown, untrimmed bushes of lilac and jasmine, beautiful old roses in dire need of pruning, a very small stretch of lawn full of moss. Flowerbeds full of weeds strangling each other. One side had once clearly been dedicated to kitchen and medical herbs, and that was where he planned to put Neville's seedlings.

He took a few deep breaths, enjoying the peaceful air of the small, neglected courtyard garden and the sweet perfume of the blooming roses. With the snitch whizzing dizzily about over his head, Harry started in on the old herbal bed. And he was freely using magic. Doing the dirt work the hard way was something he didn't mind normally, but tonight he just didn't have the time. And so what if he attracted a few gnomes? Evicting them again would give him something to take his frustration out on. And since the place was unplottable and under Fidelius, he could use all the magic he wanted.

Which made him suddenly wonder about what went on in some of these old mansions. Those kind of protections would really allow people to get away with murder or worse. No, the wizarding society was inherently not nice. Because there was way too much temptation, even without someone like Voldemort. And it was no wonder Dark Lords kept popping up like bad apples ever so often. In a society which lived under so much secrecy, it was not surprising that a lot of those secrets turned out to be … nasty. Like things living under rocks. He shuddered and concentrated back on the work he was doing.

Well, the bed was prepared, and he rather thought he'd done a good job of it. The earth had been properly loosened up, and excessive rain would be drained off. He'd have to get some fertiliser, though. This place likely hadn't gotten any for ages, but for now it would do. He was busy with planting the first seedlings when he heard movement at the door. He looked up to meet his father's dark gaze.

"Good evening," Snape said calmly as he stepped out into the garden, taking it in with a sweeping glance.

"Good evening," Harry replied, managing to squash the 'sir' in time.

As the older man came closer, the snitch darted over to investigate this new target. Snape gave it a dubious look as it twittered at him before moving back to Harry.

"Ehm. Present from Ginny," Harry informed him. "I rather like it."

"You would," his father commented dryly. "And let me congratulate you on your birthday as well."

"Thank you." Another 'sir' successfully captured before it could slip in.

"I see you are also putting Longbottom's present to good use."

"Well, it would be a shame to let them die. And I've never minded garden work. Unless I had to do it right in the middle of the day when it was really hot," he amended.

"Your aunt made you do that?"

Harry shrugged and went back to planting. "Her garden was more important to her than her 'nephew'. I rather like it how I turned out not to be related to her after all. Or Dudley," he added, grimacing. "When it comes to deciding between being related to Bellatrix and Aunt Petunia, it's really a bit of a toss-up."

"Surely a Muggle could never be as bad as someone like Bellatrix?"

Harry twisted his head around to look back at the other man and gave him a cool stare. "She can be when you are a defenceless small child and entirely at her mercy. And there are a lot more ways of tormenting someone than using nasty spells."

Snape actually looked surprised at that thought. His eyes were so focused on Harry that he even flinched when the snitch suddenly darted over to him and twittered into his ear. He shot it an annoyed glare, which had of course no effect on the toy.

"Yeah well, it wasn't _that_ bad. I shouldn't make her out as worse than she was … only I wouldn't like to imagine Aunt Petunia if she'd been born like Bellatrix instead. You know, with magic, and being rich and temptations all round. Though maybe it was jealousy that ate at her," he mused. "So perhaps if she'd had it all, she'd have been nicer?"

Snape merely rewarded that thought with a raised eyebrow. In any case, such speculation was futile. Because it was impossible to say how someone would have turned out, had they lived differently. He still thought Petunia Dursley would have had a nasty streak a mile wide, but who really knew? And the seedlings were not planting themselves, so he got back to his task.

His … father meanwhile wandered over to the rose bushes, sniffing delicately at their bounty. The snitch had taken to moving lazily back and forth between them. Harry had to smile again at its behaviour. He really loved that thing. And that had finally been the last seedling. He got up again, dusting off his knees, and carefully watered the small plants. Afterwards he went over to the decrepit garden shed. He'd investigated it last week, and not only found a collection of rusty tools, but also a bolt of slightly decaying cheesecloth. But it would still do, so he got it out and spread some of it over his seedlings, securing it with a few pieces of rock.

He looked at his work contentedly, and then joined Snape who was still standing next to the rose bushes. Eyes closed, the man seemed to be enjoying the peaceful, scented summer air. It was almost night-time now, though the place got enough light from neighbouring street-lamps that it would never be entirely dark. And there was no chance of seeing the night sky clearly here in London anyway. He rather missed the spectacular view of the stars you could get in Hogwarts on the astronomy tower.

"What this place needs is a nice bench or two," Harry said, contemplating the garden. "One right here with the roses, and another one … over there." He pointed.

"And these roses would look lovely if they were trained onto some arch." He carefully lifted the offending stems of a delicate pink climbing rose that currently had nowhere to go.

Snape sighed. "Once again you manage to surprise me. I would not really have taken you for a gardener."

Harry gave him an amused look. "Well, I started early enough. And it's a real shame the way this place looks. It could be quite lovely."

He turned around slowly, taking it all in with a critical eye. "And it's all mine now, isn't it?"

"Yes, it will be. So if you want to garden … there are certainly worse ways of passing time."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "At least it's something I can fix up. Because the rest of the house ..." He realised that he felt strangely upset at not being able to do anything about it.

"You really need to get a proper house-elf."

"Hmm. Kreacher is hopeless, unfortunately. Hermione always insists that we just need to treat him nicer, but it's hard when he keeps sprouting such horrible things."

"Where is the wretched creature, anyway?"

"I think the headmaster sent him to work at Hogwarts after … Sirius died," Harry sighed. Everything today seemed to bring up bad memories or start up distressing chains of thought.

"Wasn't there some mad elf at Hogwarts who is positively in love with you?" Snape sounded amused, when normally he would have sneered. But normal just wasn't the same anymore.

"Dobby," Harry agreed, and shuddered. "He would drive me up the wall within the week, though. He is just _too_ enthusiastic. But I think he told me that Crouch's old elf Winky was also at Hogwarts and really not doing well without a master. Maybe we could swap her for Kreacher or something."

"You probably need to wait until you are properly Lord Black to bind an elf, but that might be quite a good idea. Nothing like a motivated house-elf for cleaning up a place."

"I guess so. Hogwarts is certainly well cared for. But I've never been in a private place with a house-elf. Because here hardly counts," he said, looking at the house with dismay. It really was in an awful state, despite Mrs. Weasley's best efforts.

"And Hermione can't ever learn of it. She would crucify me," he added with a sideways look at … his father. Whom he was actually having an easy conversation with, about harmless domestic details, everyday things like household maintenance and gardening. And who seemed to consider Harry's opinions and ideas as worth listening too.

"She is indeed quite infamous for her little campaign amongst the Hogwarts' house-elves. I believe most of them are terrified of her and will not go near her," Snape commented dryly, and there was actually an amused smile lurking on his lips.

Harry had to laugh at the comment, startling the snitch, which had taken up residence behind his ear. He tried to catch it, but it evaded his grasp easily. And his … father smirked at him. Which was bizarre. They couldn't really have gone from mutual animosity to such easy-going acceptance and understanding within a day?

Then again, the animosity had belonged to Harry Potter. Corvus Black had no real reason not to get along with his father. He wondered if thinking of himself as two different people was a sign of schizophrenia. But those two were rather different already. Even if they were both him. And just bearing a different face and name, and having different parents, shouldn't make such a big difference. Only somehow it did. Then again, their improved relationship was largely due to the vastly changed way Snape now treated him.

Speaking of face, though ...

"By the way, could you take this off me again," he asked … his father, gesturing at his own face.

Because it was high time he became Corvus for real. Things had been set in motion today, and the sooner he got used to being … who he was, the better. And that really involved not looking like Harry Potter anymore.

"Certainly," Snape agreed easily, though he gave Harry … Corvus a measuring look.

Always the Slytherin. Calculating what things meant. Trying to work out what people were thinking, and planning ahead. But wasn't that rather better than jumping to false conclusions and letting your prejudices colour expectations, like all the Gryffindors had done earlier?

.

oOoOoOoOo

So now he was back to looking like Corvus again. Like … himself. They were still out in the garden together, seated on a couple of chairs Snape had summoned from the house. A softly glowing globe of conjured light was suspended above them. And Harry … Corvus was watching Hedwig play chase with the toy-snitch. He now felt better about failing to catch it earlier, when even the owl couldn't manage it. It was all quite restful, with the beguiling smell of the roses, the chirping of crickets and the muted sounds of London's night traffic drifting over the tall walls. And the white owl, silently winging after a faintly glowing golden point of light. They'd been talking quietly for a while now. Him … and his father. The world had truly turned upside down.

"So we go shopping for clothes tomorrow?" Harry asked with some dismay.

"The sooner we get started, the better. We do not have terribly much time left before school starts again, and unfortunately there is a lot we need to accomplish," his father stated with a faint frown.

"After we come back from shopping, I will try and run a test with you for an alternative way of teaching you Occlumency," Snape continued, which made Harry … Corvus feel rather apprehensive. He wondered if he would ever be able to hear the word without remembering their gruelling lessons of last year.

"All right," he agreed, trying to hide his unease.

The other wizard gave him yet another calculating look. Corvus was starting to get used to these.

"I had thought that I would have a hard time teaching you to stop showing your thoughts and feelings quite so much in your expression and body language. But you seem to do much better at it than I had assumed," he conceded.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "It's just when I lose my temper. Then I really have trouble with it. And I'm sorry, but being around you just always made me blow up like crazy. So I doubt you've ever seen much of my other sides."

Snape sighed, looking apologetic. Again. That was another thing Harry still had trouble wrapping his head around. Snape. Apologizing. To him. But maybe Corvus could graciously accept those apologies, and easily forgive the man, because he was an all new person, after all.

"How are you at behaving differently though? I dare say I can help by not getting you to lose your temper around me, but that is not the only challenge here."

"I honestly don't know. I can't really know until I try it," Harry admitted. "But I should be able to, at least I think so. I mean, you'd probably not have recognised me the way I had to behave around the Dursleys. Acting arrogant can't be that much harder than acting meek and obedient. And I don't think that being openly distrustful will be difficult for me at all."

He grimaced. After all he really didn't trust people much. He'd just have to stop hiding the fact.

"And I certainly managed today," he finished, remembering the horrible dinner.

"What happened?"

"Aside from everyone thinking that Corvus would be a horrible person and a Death Eater just like his mother? And expecting the worst of him, and making nasty assumptions about what he would be like all during dinner? I really don't know how I managed not to give myself away," he concluded with another grimace.

"I fear you have finally encountered the prejudice and bias of Gryffindor from the other side. And you will have to get used to it, if you are still determined to join the snakes."

"Actually that's not true. I've been on the receiving end of that bias plenty before, you know," he pointed out, remembering only too well the times his house had reacted badly to him. Harry Potter's house, he reminded himself. It was becoming increasingly clear to him that Corvus Black really was no Gryffindor.

But Corvus could just refuse to let it touch him. Corvus could be whatever he liked, really. What he decided to be. So what if he couldn't change the expectations and prejudices that came with being Corvus Black, Death Eater spawn. But he could damn well decide himself how he was going to react to those expectations. And if he didn't want to let it hurt him, if it meant nothing, because he knew it wasn't true, or fair, and in no way valid, then he could.

He just had to set the pattern. And then keep reinforcing it.

And Corvus would be calm, and reserved, and distrustful, and yes, damn well arrogant. He wouldn't give a damn about who his parents were, either, because really, who cared? He was himself, and it didn't matter who had sired him. Corvus Black hadn't been raised by his parents. Had not even known them until now. So why should he care about them? Of course, there was the tiny complication that Harry Potter _had_ known them, and had decided opinions and bad reactions to them. But Harry Potter didn't exist anymore. His reactions didn't matter, unless he allowed them to. Damn it, but he was starting to really feel schizophrenic now.

Because he was also starting to care about having a father. Not so much about the father himself, but about the _having_. About no longer being all adrift and alone, without someone to turn to. It certainly didn't hurt that said father was now actually listening, and seemed to quite value him. Which was … weird.

Only Corvus wasn't going to be able to admit to that father in the near future. Would have to pretend he didn't know who his father was, in fact. Which meant it would be quite important that Snape was his head of house instead. Because that way he'd at least be a kind of surrogate parental figure. Corvus Black would be able to interact in a positive way with the head of Slytherin … provided he was one of the snakes himself.

He sighed. No longer being an orphan was certainly turning out to be … complicated.

"What are you thinking about?"

How the heck did one explain thoughts like these to the one they were about?

"Mostly … about how different Harry and Corvus already seem to be. Which is making me feel a bit schizophrenic."

He looked directly into his father's dark eyes. "And that I suppose it's really up to me to decide what Corvus will be like. How he's going to react to things. And that somehow he's starting to like having a father around, which is very strange seeing as it's _you_."

Perhaps not the most polite way of phrasing it, but Snape seemed to find it amusing anyway, judging from his quiet chuckle.

"I mean, I'm starting to feel _comfortable_ around you!"

"Oh, the horror," his father deadpanned.

And overhead Hedwig gave a call of triumph as her talons finally closed around the little golden snitch.

.

oOoOoOoOo

A while later Harry was staring at his reflection. Only it was Corvus looking back at him.

And it was Corvus' curls he was brushing out, and tying back because waking up once with his hair in a tangled mess was enough. Dark eyes staring back at him. They should have been green. He blinked long, black lashes, arched a dark eyebrow. There was definitely a resemblance to Sirius. All things considered, he looked very much a Black, with apparently few traces of his … father in him. Mostly the man seemed to have contributed to making Corvus' coloration even darker. He should probably be grateful for that.

Although … he lifted his hands to form a frame around his eyes. It looked like those were actually from his father after all. Though that wasn't necessarily such a bad thing. Those dark eyes that could really bore into people were kind of Snape's best feature.

He sighed. Just another way his world had reversed itself then. Because he'd always looked just like James, with Lily's eyes. Now it seemed he looked just like his mother, with his father's eyes thrown in. Bizarre.

And it hadn't even been a full day yet. Yesterday at this time he'd been in the sitting room, waiting for midnight to come. He'd fallen asleep, and experienced a nightmare that turned out to be reality. Which was quite strange, too. He'd almost forgotten about the dream. In the shock of last night's discovery, it had totally slipped his mind. Which meant he hadn't told the others about it, either. But should he still tell them about it now?

Harry frowned, and watched Corvus' reflection frown back at him. Yes, he really needed to spend a lot of time in front of mirrors in the near future. At least until he'd stopped wondering who the stranger looking back at him was.

His mind returned to the matter of the dream, however. Had it been prophetic? Or at least some kind of true-dreaming? Because he'd dreamt about it just as it was happening, really. So it might have been caused by the charm breaking up, or maybe been a weird echo from his connection to the tapestry? Because there had to be some link between that piece of spell-work and the Black family. Which was now very much his family. At least on one side. The other side … well, he really didn't know much about Snape's background.

For all that he still couldn't get his mind around _Bellatrix_ as his mother, it had been strangely easy to accept himself as a member of the Black family. It was as if something had clicked in him the moment he'd learned of it. It had felt … strangely right. Real. Perhaps it was because of Sirius? He'd wanted his godfather as family, after all. Though that didn't feel like the right answer, somehow.

He wondered if it had something to do with magic. He was apparently now the Head of House, or as good as. So maybe the very house itself, and the magics of the family, were welcoming him? Because he felt … different about the house. Before it had been merely gloomy and depressing. Now the darkness felt oddly welcoming, and the bad condition of the house had earlier actually distressed him.

Could this also be a reason for why things were already feeling so different? And why he'd felt so strangely comfortable around Snape earlier? Because the house itself had accepted him, and was somehow making him feel better? The atmosphere in the garden had certainly been … relaxing. Of course it had been a rare beautiful summer evening, too. But something _had_ changed. And magic could well be contributing to making it easier for him to accept all this. Because it really should have been much harder.

.

Yes, the initial discovery had given him a bad shock. But finding out that Snape, of all people, was his father had actually not upset him all that much. Of course it was helpful that the man had turned out to be quite willing to start fresh, and was treating Harry all differently. But this strangely easy acceptance that had developed between them in less than a day … it felt unreal somehow. Shouldn't be possible. And yet he could hardly complain about it.

Because continuing their feud under these changed circumstances would just be stupid. He needed the other man's support, no matter how he felt about him. And maybe what he'd always hated about his teacher had never been the man himself, but the way he treated Harry. He watched Corvus' reflection crunch up his brow in thought. In truth, if Snape had only treated him like everyone else, would he have particularly disliked the teacher? He thought not. It was constantly being singled out for insult and ridicule, and the unfair treatments that had upset him.

And of course the insults against … James. Just like his father, indeed. What irony _that_ had turned out to be.

But maybe that was another reason he'd come to accept Snape so readily? Because the Potters had been reduced from being his parents into being merely … foster-parents. Tarnished. But there really was no way around it. He just hadn't known them. It was impossible to cling to them as parents. Because there was nothing to cling to. No fond memories. There were just some pictures, and a few stories. And not all of these were even good stories, at that. No, thanks to what he'd learned in Snape's Pensieve, the Potters had become tarnished even before he'd discovered that they hadn't actually been his parents. Mostly what connected him to them now were feelings of guilt. And that certainly wasn't a good basis for anything.

He regarded his reflection darkly. All this was really messed up. _He_ was really messed up.

And once again his mind was rambling on, slipping from one topic to the next. Clear your mind, indeed. Hopefully Snape really had a different approach that could work, because he'd never been able to stop his wandering thoughts. And tonight 'clearing' his mind would be quite impossible. Even … his father seemed to have realised that, since he'd handed Harry a vial of Dreamless Sleep before he left. Yes, he needed the man. Because when he was actually being supportive, he was rather useful to have around. And quite pleasant company, really. How shocking.

Ah well. Brush teeth, wash face, get into bed, down potion. Hopefully get some good sleep, which he was going to need. Tomorrow promised to be a long day for Corvus Black.

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oOoOoOoOo


	9. Dressed to the nines

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. I just take them shopping.

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oOoOoOoOo

Corvus Black woke up early the next morning, feeling rather well rested. Thanks to the potion, no dreams had haunted his sleep for once. Unfortunately he couldn't take it very often. He'd have loved too, but even he knew that denying the brain the possibility of dreaming was not a good idea in the long run. If only most of his dreams weren't nightmares.

It was too early to get up, though. So he snuggled back into the blankets. But his mind was wide awake now, and the endless worrying thoughts had started again.

Becoming a different person in name and appearance was likely to bring many big changes in his life, but some things would stay just the same. The nightmares, for one. And for all that he'd now no longer be Harry Potter … it wouldn't stop him from having Harry Potter's dreams and nightmares. His endlessly percolating thoughts. His memories. His knowledge. His experiences. In fact … all those things which had really made him into who he _was._

And the things he would lose were mostly those that you _have_ … like friends, a name, an appearance, the circumstances of living. But he wasn't his friends. He wasn't his name, or his appearance, or the circumstances of his life. He wasn't his views, either. Views could change quite easily, all it took was someone persuasive enough to convince you of new ones. Or have a big shock change them for you. No, views and assumptions didn't define who a person was.

Everything that had made him into … himself would still be there. The name was a mere label. And his past formative influences didn't so much belong to Harry Potter, as to … him. Whoever that was. Exactly like Remus had said … it did not matter. Not for this. He was still himself.

He was himself. Becoming Corvus simply changed the outside. The circumstances. How others saw him. Who he associated with. As well as some of his views, and along with that his self-perception. But just because he saw himself differently now, didn't mean he actually _was_ different. Yesterday he'd wondered if he was becoming schizophrenic. But really, there was no difference between the two. They were both him. He was both. And neither. Because in the end, he was … himself. Himself with two masks, one broken and one not yet formed.

It was only the mask that Harry Potter used to wear which was shattered and discarded thanks to his discovery and the decision he'd made. But the mask was not _him_. The mask was simply what others saw of him, and how he reacted to them. It was all about perception. And since he'd allowed too many others to influence it, not even close to a true reflection of who he really was. There had been too much falsehood, and the shocking discovery of his real background had finally made him see it for what it was.

Inside, Corvus Black was no different from Harry Potter. And this last day had not actually changed who he was, either.

Well, aside from make him more knowledgeable about himself. Less inclined to accept the views of others without question. Views which were too often prejudices. He'd have to be more critical in the future. Because for all that he hardly trusted anyone, he'd still allowed their opinions to affect him … way too much.

But just because you aren't very trusting, unfortunately doesn't mean you aren't still ruled by the desire to belong and to fit in. And that usually involved accepting the views and prejudices of the people you wanted to belong to. However, once you became aware of this … you could fight it. And he'd have to, if he wanted to survive in Slytherin. He needed to leave his old prejudices at the door, and try not to pick up new ones just to fit in.

Having had a good rest seemed to have brought him unexpected mental clarity this morning.

Or maybe there really was something to 'sleep on it'.

Today he would start the life of Corvus Black. But he'd also still be himself. He'd just have to find out who that really was. Because he couldn't trust his old self-perception anymore. As for the mask Corvus was going to wear … that would largely be up to him. The thought was rather liberating, all things considered.

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oOoOoOoOo

One thing that was certainly going to be quite different about Corvus Black would be his outward image. Which involved a new wardrobe. And they were going to acquire that today. He'd be going shopping with … his father. That was bound to be an … interesting experience, given who that father was. And also considering that aside from school-robes, he'd never really gone shopping for clothes before.

But first, he had to find something suitable for Corvus Black to wear. Because he suspected they'd be visiting some quite fancy shops. Corvus narrowed his eyes as he inspected Harry Potter's wardrobe. This was going to be a challenge. Given the state of the clothing he had to work with, Corvus Black was going to have to soldier through on sheer arrogance, he decided.

When he went down to breakfast, after a thorough shower, he wore his best school trousers with a white button down shirt that was reasonably presentable. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to compose himself. Corvus Black was ready to meet the world. And the world could go hang if it wasn't ready to meet him. Or something. He lifted his chin. And Corvus Black didn't have to feel or behave particularly bold, since he wasn't a Gryffindor. He certainly didn't feel brave this morning. Especially his stomach seemed, once again, positively like a Slytherin.

Fortunately it was only Remus in the kitchen so far. His teacher gave him a gentle smile and wished him a good morning. Offered him a cup of tea.

"Good morning," Harry … Corvus offered in return, settling down across from Remus.

A few sips from the hot, sweet tea helped to settle his stomach a bit. He contemplated taking some toast. He eyed the rest of the usual breakfast dishes doubtfully. There was even some cake left from yesterday, but the mere thought of the sweet taste made him nauseous. He ran a finger between his collar and his throat, feeling unaccountably nervous.

"Hey, you'll do fine, Cub. Just remember that you are not alone in this," Remus said gently, giving Harry's arm a squeeze.

He munched on the toast, alternating bites with sips of tea. He couldn't help but fidget. And chased the crumbs around on his plate with a nervous finger.

"Harry," Remus said, getting his attention again.

You should try to eat something more," he admonished, frowning. "It's going to be a long day and you do not want to go and faint on us," he added with a wink. Harry groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Please, don't remind me. I don't want to think about it yet," he complained, but took another slice of toast. Remus gave him a sympathetic look and returned to looking through a pile of books. Work for later, probably.

Harry … Corvus sighed. It was going to be a long day indeed. And he didn't understand why he was feeling so apprehensive about meeting … his father again this morning.

He was still nibbling on his second piece of toast when the door opened to admit Severus Snape. Harry looked up to meet his father's dark eyes.

And he knew quite suddenly why he'd been so worried. Because he'd unconsciously expected Snape to go back to his normal behaviour. All right, not _normal_. Not anymore. But his _old_ behaviour towards Harry. Only Harry was now Corvus. And apparently his … father really had no intention to return to his old ways, because the expression on his face was once again rather neutral. Fairly relaxed, in fact. With a tiny smile lurking in his eyes even.

He realised that he'd been holding his breath, and let it out of sheer relief. And Snape simply shook his head at him, and the slight smile that curved his lips was a mixture between rueful and amused.

So Harry just shrugged back. Apparently they could now communicate quite without words. He sneaked a look at Remus, but the werewolf still had his attention on the pile of books and hadn't noticed their interchange. Or at least he pretended not to have noticed anything, judging from the amused look he gave both of them when he looked up.

"What?" he asked artlessly, smiling softly. "And good morning to you, Severus."

"Good morning indeed," the dark-haired wizard replied, snagging a chair and sitting down casually next to Harry.

Which was strange all over again.

"Good morning," Harry remembered to say belatedly, and took a sip of his now cold tea to cover his confusion. The Snape he'd known for five years just didn't do _casual_. But this was a different version of his teacher. The 'I'm your father' version.

"Are you two ready then?"

"Just about," Remus replied, slipping a bookmark into one of his volumes before stacking it on a separate pile. "Give me a hand with clearing breakfast away and we can head out."

"Hmm, not quite yet," Snape said, giving Harry a considering look. "You'll do, but we need to put the glamours on your scars. Oh, and you get this," he added, taking out a jar and handing it to the teenager.

It turned out to be Muggle make-up. Harry … Corvus rolled his eyes, but got up without protest and headed for the bathroom to apply it to his scars. When he came back he was surprised to find both men look subtly different. They were still recognisable, but only if you knew who they were to begin with. They had also transfigured their robes into something that would pass without notice in the Muggle world. Harry noted idly that Snape didn't look half bad in his rather severe-cut but elegant suit.

"Just glamours," his father explained when Corvus shot him a questioning look. "And now one for your scars," he added, and both older wizards lifted their wands in preparation.

"I don't get a different look?" Harry asked curiously.

"We are merely going into Muggle London," Snape said offhandedly, with a slight shrug. "I do not really expect to run into anyone who could recognise us. So this is just an extra safety precaution. And it's easier to recognise someone you already know, than remember someone you have never met before, so you will be fine."

"Plus we are going shopping for your clothing, so it will be helpful if you actually look like yourself," he pointed out with a raised eyebrow. And that damn amused smile lurking in the corners of his mouth again.

Harry just rolled his eyes again and submitted to their spelling.

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oOoOoOoOo

A few minutes and a side-by-side apparition later the three of them were wandering down a fashionably shopping street in London. And Harry … Corvus was giving his father an appalled stare.

"You want me to wear a _what_?" he exclaimed, horrified.

"A corset. Corvus Black will wear a corset, at least at first," The older man explained evenly. "These are not just an item of female underwear, Corvus. They are also used to train correct posture. In your case it will also help you to enhance a certain … stiffness and give you a constant reminder to act differently."

Snape stopped for a moment and fixed him with one of his intense stares. "You will be surrounded by Slytherins, Corvus. Nothing about you should say Harry Potter. That includes how you hold yourself. You are also a Head of House. And Corvus Black did _not_ grow up with Muggles. He grew up with a scholar and Master of Defence who moved about a lot. He … _you_ grew up under unusual circumstances."

"You can refuse to tell anybody about those circumstances … but they need to be reflected in your behaviour nevertheless," he concluded firmly.

Harry nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I know. We talked about that. And I still think I can do it … just not to which extent," he admitted doubtfully.

"Hence the corset and new wardrobe. Both will do a lot of the work for you, and help remind you to act differently, too. When you wear your new clothing, you will _be_ Corvus Black, head of House Black. Slytherin. Enigma. Standoffish. Paranoid. Unwilling to trust those around you more than you have to. The last should not be too hard for you," Snape said, giving Harry one of his calculating looks.

Especially seeing as they will likely mostly be Slytherins," he added with an ironic smirk. "I suspect you will feel even less inclined to trust any of them than usual."

"Right," Harry agreed with an answering wry smile. "Any other horrors of dressmaking you want to inflict on me?"

The dark wizard gave him another of those long, measuring looks.

"Definitely no T-shirts and jeans for you," he smirked again as Harry groaned. "High collar shirts, proper trousers. As for colours, hmm …"he looked Corvus over critically.

"Probably anything dark or monochrome, for the image, really. With your looks you could wear almost any colour well," he admitted, as he started walking forward again. "But cheerful will not do, I fear. Aside from school robes we should leave off robes though," he added thoughtfully. "We do not want to enhance any similarity of yours to me if we can help it."

Harry … Corvus sighed as Remus held open the door to the first shop for the other two. It was going to be a long day.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Isn't this enough yet?" Harry asked, eyeing the several bags of clothing they were now toting about in dismay.

"One last shop," Snape said, distractedly grimacing at a very flashy haute couture creation in the shop window they were currently passing.

"This one does have a selection with a certain … flair, which should nicely fit the image of Corvus Black."

Harry … Corvus sighed and tried to loosen his stiff collar surreptitiously. It was getting rather hot, his back was killing him thanks to the constant posture the damn corset was forcing him into, and he had a headache.

"Oh, by the way … Corvus," Remus said after they had finally entered that last store.

"Yeah?"

"I fear we'll have to work a bit on how you speak, Cub," the werewolf said, sounding apologetic. "Your voice _has_ changed, but you still sound too much like the boy from Surrey."

"Oh, great, so now I'll have to learn how to talk, too?" Harry said sarcastically, starting to feel rebellious at last. And irritated. It wasn't such a big deal, but the small things were really starting to pile up, too.

Snape, who had been looking over the shop's selection and picking out items for Harry to try on, surprised him with a low chuckle.

"Finally, the return of the rebellious teenager," he said with a faint smirk. He didn't sound very disapproving, though.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just really tired of this."

"You certainly are no fan of shopping, I can tell," Snape commented, holding up a shirt for closer inspection.

"And no, you do not need to learn how to talk. But your speech needs to be a bit different at least," he continued. "It does not do us much good if you manage to look and act totally differently and then give yourself away the first time you open your mouth," he pointed out.

Which wasn't unreasonable. Merely yet another thing added to an already very long list of things to do.

So Harry simply gave him a tired look. "Acting differently I can manage … but how do I stop myself from talking naturally?"

"Hmm. For starters try to simply speak more slowly," Snape suggested. "And use less contractions. It will make you sound slightly unnatural at first, but since you will be 'just back from Spain', people will expect your English to be a bit stiff. We can also point out some of the more obvious things about your pronunciation you should try to say differently," he added.

Harry just threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. He'd try to talk slower, even if it would make him sound like a twit. He looked at the clothes his father handed him doubtfully, but gathered them up and took himself into the change-room.

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oOoOoOoOo

Harry … no, Corvus eyed himself in the changing-room mirror. The dreaded corset was really more like a sleeveless vest, with lacing in the back that could be adjusted. Otherwise it hooked together in the front, which at least meant he could put it on without help. It felt stiff yet flexible, and while it _was_ constricting, it was not too badly so. He might even grow into thinking it supportive, though right now it just felt wrong. But it certainly forced him into posture, and reminded him constantly of its presence. And why it was there.

He sighed. At least no one would know he was wearing it.

He drew on the trousers, and had to admit that he liked the feel of the charcoal grey wool, enjoyed the way they actually fit. They were a bit on the long side, but then he was hopefully due to grow some more leg. He was still short compared to his year mates, after all. He took the white silk shirt of the hanger, delighting in the soft feel in his hands. Maybe there was something to be said for proper clothing. He also had to agree with … his father that this shop had a decidedly unusual flair.

As he buttoned up what seemed like an endless amount of small silver buttons he contemplated the elegant high collar, the beautifully flowing full sleeves. Together with his long, dark curls it was maybe a bit … girlish? Then again, what with the corset and all, his figure was way too flat to be considered girlish he concluded, striking a haughty pose to rival Malfoy. As the handsome, well dressed vision in the mirror gazed back with smouldering dark eyes, he couldn't stop himself from shivering. He desperately wished he didn't look quite so much like his demented mother.

He found his father and Remus waiting for him when he exited the changing-room. Snape's eyes were calculating as usual as they swept him from top to bottom, but there was a faint smile of approval on his face when they returned to meet Harry's … Corvus' eyes.

"Very nice," was all he said, before handing over the next set to try on. Harry accepted the clothes with another tired sigh. At least this was the last shop. He badly wanted to go home by now.

Remus, by contrast, seemed both a bit lost as well as proud as he eyed Harry … _Corvus. _

"You look quite different like that," he said quietly.

"But really good, too. Dashing even!" There was suddenly an unexpectedly wicked twinkle in his eyes. "I'm sure you shall be the subject of many a badly written love poem in the girl's dorms," he teased with a wink. His smile widened at the wince that escaped Harry … Corvus at _that_ horrible thought.

He fled. And tried on more clothes. And more clothes. He had to admit they were very nice clothes, too. They'd ended up buying way more than he felt comfortable with, but even he had to allow that he looked … good. Impressive even. He stared at himself in the last outfit, black trousers, another silk shirt in a beautiful dark green, with a black sleeveless vest over it, and of course once again way too many buttons …

But taken together with his dark curls, and those intense dark eyes of his father's that continued to startle him every time he looked at himself … he cut quite the figure. He couldn't deny it. But after wearing Dudley's cast-offs for so long, and striving for obscurity, it would take getting used to.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So you are her son," a familiar voice came from behind him as he was on his way to the sitting room.

Familiar and at the same time … not. Because it was highly unusual for that voice to sound polite. Instead of shrieking and screaming abuse.

Harry froze at hearing it. Though he should have expected it. Because he was no longer a filthy mudblood whose very presence defiled the house of Black. No, he was now the heir, soon to be head of House Black. And since he looked just like _darling_ Bellatrix, he was now apparently in Walburga Black's good graces.

The big question was how he ought to react to it. Play along with her to keep her sweet? Risk antagonizing her, and have her go back to spewing abuse? And did he even really have a choice? They could not risk her learning that Corvus had been Harry. She simply couldn't be trusted to keep it a secret. Yet she already knew damning evidence. Because she had seen Corvus here _now_, when he was still meant to be in Spain. Why, oh why, had no-one thought of the portraits?

There weren't any paintings with people in it in the library, the sitting room, or the kitchen where most of their talks had taken place. So his big secret and the details of their plotting were safe enough. But he'd moved about in the hallways, looking like Corvus. Who wasn't supposed to be here yet.

None of them had thought about the spies hanging on the walls, who might tattle. Especially in this house. And most particularly this one. Walburga Black, as unpleasant as they ever came. And apparently, either because of something she had managed to overhear, or because of those Black family magics he had guessed at yesterday, aware that he was a Black. And son of her darling nice Bellatrix. He stifled a groan.

"Well, are you dumb? Can you not answer, boy?" she snapped now, no longer sounding so polite. Impatient.

Why did a stupid portrait have to be impatient? It wasn't as if they had anything to do all day long but hang from the walls?

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you … surprised me," he finally replied, stalling for time and going for being polite.

"So you can talk," she sniffed. "And you have some manners, at least."

Arrogant as always. Maybe he could butter her up, and extract a promise from her not to talk about what she saw? It would be the Slytherin thing to do. His … father would no doubt appreciate that. Besides, there was really no Gryffindor way of dealing with this situation. Nowhere to charge in bravely. Of course he could always be prejudiced about her. He mentally shook his head. Where had _that_ thought come from?

So he gave her an insincere smile. Because she might be polite to Corvus Black now, but he had Harry Potter's memories of being insulted by her.

"Pardon me, but I don't think we have been introduced?" he tried. He ought to start reading that book from the Patil twins soon.

She drew herself up haughtily. "I am Walburga Black," she declared proudly. "Your mother Bellatrix is my nice."

"Ah. That would make you my … great-aunt then?"

"Indeed," she admitted, her expression softening.

"And you don't mind that, ehm," he blushed. "She wasn't married to my father?"

Walburga sniffed, but didn't look too put out. "Well, obviously it is rather scandalous. But you are still a Black, and at least this way you bear the family name. And I'm sure dear Bellatrix would never have consorted with bad blood," she said with full conviction.

Trust her to have her priorities straight, even if they were all twisted. And he distinctly remembered Snape mentioning a Muggle father yesterday … which by her standards would be very bad blood indeed. But what she didn't know about ...

Plus it was nice that for once someone's prejudices worked in his favour.

"But, let me look at you properly," she continued. "Hmm, not bad. Quite charming, really, just like your dear mother. You are her spitting image," she commented, obviously pleased.

Harry … Corvus, however, was hardly pleased with her remark. Because he wasn't very happy about looking like … his mother.

"So they tell me," he replied cautiously, not wanting to set her off. "I'm afraid I've never met her. That I can remember, at least," he amended quickly.

Corvus Black had truly never met his mother after his birth. So it was only half a lie. He refused to dwell on the fact that he must have spent months inside her womb. Sharing everything with her. Hearing her heartbeat every second of the day.

Or that he had vivid memories of her killing his godfather. And of chasing after her afterwards ...

"Never met her?" Walburga said in a shocked tone of voice. "Where have you lived to be ignorant of your own mother?"

"In Spain, ma'am. And my guardians never told me anything about my parents," he explained. Which, ironically, wasn't a lie at all. The Dursleys had done exactly that, after all.

"Spain, eh? Did you like it there?"

"Very much so, ma'am. But now I'm here, and they told me this is my house now," he added with a questioning look at her. Let her fall for that lure and tell him what she actually knew …

"So it is, so it is," she admitted, eyeing him critically. "Now that both my sons are dead it went to the distaff line," she sniffed and dabbed at her eye with a lacy handkerchief. "Oh, my poor Regulus, to die so young. And now Sirius, too. Though he was a filthy traitor to the family, consorting with mudblood scum," she spat, narrowing her eyes in fury and crushing the handkerchief as if she wanted to wring Sirius' neck instead.

Harry knew he could never manage to look sympathetic. It took all his willpower not to shout back at her. But he could do blank. Because Corvus Black hadn't known Sirius. So he could look confused, and politely blank. Because he needed to get her on his side, even if he hated it. And what had Remus said? Always ask your own questions? He needed to gain the initiative then, and not let her ramble on.

"Ma'am?" he interrupted her, trying to sound courteous. It stopped her rant, at least.

"May I ask you how you know about me, please?"

She looked at him as if he'd asked her why the sun rose in the East.

"Because you are a Black?" she said, and her expression was a mixture of taken-aback and affronted.

"But ma'am, I don't know anything about being a Black," he told her, with a hopefully convincing attempt at a winsome smile on his face.

It seemed to work, since her expression softened. "You poor boy," she said, dabbing at her eye with the lacy handkerchief again. "To not know about your own family. Criminal, that's what it is!"

Sensing another rant coming on he quickly interrupted her.

"Maybe you could tell me something about it, then?"

"Of course, dear. Let me start ..." and off she went.

He considered his options while she went on and on about House Black and its glorious past. There was no way he could force her or threaten her. She was a portrait, and so far any attempt to remove her from the wall or shut her up had failed. He was pretty sure someone had even tried to _incendio_ her, as there were scorch marks on the frame. Maybe it had been Sirius when he was stuck here with her. But that clearly hadn't worked. Stunning her did, as far as he knew, but that was only a short-term solution.

Then there was blackmail or bribes. But he had no idea what to bribe her with, and even less about blackmailing. So his best bet would be to try to trick her into a promise. And the old woman had her weak points. Such as pride and vanity. And if he could appeal to her curiosity at the same time, she might be quite willing.

So he listened to her, making appropriate noises to keep her going. Any time she started in on Sirius or one of the other family members she didn't approve of, he simply derailed her with another question. It turned out to be surprisingly easy to handle her. And the longer she talked, the more she warmed up to him.

Well, being listened to had worked on him as well. Surely she was even more lonely than him, stuck to the wall and with no-one willing to talk with her. Which was, of course, her own fault for being so foul-mouthed normally. Still, it was one point where he could sympathise with her.

But sympathy or not, he still needed her to give her promise not to tell about his presence.

"Ma'am?" he finally asked, wringing his hands together in a gesture of anxiety that was only half faked. The expression on his face was, though.

She stopped halfway through a convoluted tale about some distant cousin.

"Yes, dear?"

"I'm sorry, but I just remembered something," he said, planting an uncertain look on his face.

"What, dear?"

"I'm not sure I should talk about it, though. It's rather a secret," he hedged. Time to sink his hook.

"Why, I'm sure I can be trusted," she admonished him, looking mildly affronted. And also very curious.

"Well, ma'am, it's simply that it could be very dangerous for me if someone learned of it," he said hesitantly, letting some fear creep into his voice. Let's see if she'd take the bait …

"There are … people after me," he admitted in a whisper.

There were indeed.

"Who would dare threaten a member of my house?" she asked, her voice rising an octave. Which was promising, as she was now angry at whoever endangered a member of her family that she had come to like.

"I don't even know who they all are myself, ma'am."

Which was entirely true as well.

"But you see," he gave her a faked shy look. "Supposedly I'm not even here yet. I'm still officially in Spain. But they moved me earlier for my protection. My safety depends on no-one knowing that, though."

She blinked at him, looking a bit confused. Now to reel her in carefully ...

"And if someone learned that I was already here now, it could be a really big problem for me, ma'am," he finished, painting his face in a mixture of despairing and hopeful.

"You think … that I would tell on you?" she exclaimed, clearly affronted, finally realising where he was tending. "I would never in my life endanger the son of dear Bellatrix … and such a sweet boy you are," she said, her gaze softening again.

"Promise?" he said, now all hopeful.

She drew herself up. "Of course I promise, dear. I swear on my honour of being a Black that I will never tell anyone about your presence here, and that I will always do anything in my power to keep you safe."

"Oh, thank you," he said, and he certainly didn't have to fake the relief in his voice.

He also felt like a total cad at how he had caught that particular fish. He was really turning into a Slytherin here. Or at least giving his inner Slytherin a good airing out.

Guilt made him chat some more with her, and promise her to come back to talk more in the future. At least now that he had her promise he felt less tense. Still, their whole conversation was an experience he could have done without.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You look rather disturbed," Remus said, sounding concerned when Harry came into the room with a stormy expression and threw himself down on the couch. "Has anything happened? You were gone rather long. I was just about to come looking for you."

"Why, whatever makes you think that," he replied sarcastically. "All I did was have a _lovely_ conversation with dear Mrs. Black," he explained, closing his eyes and resting his aching head against the back of the couch.

The silence stretched out longer than he would have expected. He opened his eyes again to catch his father and Remus still looking at each other ruefully.

Snape sighed. "We completely forgot about the portraits, yes. I take it you managed her somehow? Since she isn't screaming murder right now?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I really buttered her up, which wasn't easy when she started praising Bellatrix and tearing into Sirius," he added, rolling his eyes.

He watched the other two share another look.

"I'm not totally hopeless at keeping my temper, you know?" he added, feeling a bit offended.

"Anyway, once I had her gushing all over me I got her curious by hinting about a secret and that I was in danger because of it, and voilà, one portrait eager to keep her mouth shut," he concluded, turning his eyes up to stare at the ceiling.

"What secret? I hope you didn't tell her about me, or worse, Harry Potter?" Snape asked, clearly alarmed by the idea.

"Of course not. But I'm not supposed to be _here_ yet, am I? And she'd already seen me," he scoffed. "So I told her I had people after me, and that I'd been moved here earlier in secret to protect me. When I hinted that I needed her silence to help with that, she all but fell over herself to promise to not tell anyone."

His father coughed delicately. And sounded contrite. "Once again you manage to surprise me," he admitted. "Pleasantly so, I should add. And it is good to know that you can think on your feet, and handle even that harridan. Even better, you tricked her by offering a secret she essentially already knew."

Harry rolled his eyes again, still feeling disturbed. Trying to manipulate Mrs. Black without her catching on had been stressful. And he still felt bad about the whole manipulation in the first place. The tension had certainly not helped with his headache either.

"I guess so," he admitted a bit grudgingly. "What about the rest of the portraits, though?"

"We could simply collect them and lock them up somewhere," Snape suggested after a moment of thought.

"We should have done that long ago. They are a security risk that is too easy to forget about," Remus admitted, shaking his head.

"Hopefully she is the only one stuck to the wall," Snape said sourly. "Otherwise this will turn into a nightmare."

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AN: This chapter gave me some trouble, as it refused to be wrestled into shape. I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but going over it again and again isn't going to get it posted. So it will just have to be 'good enough'. And as usual, thanks for any reviews!


	10. The Cloud in Occlude

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling. I just try to teach them Occlumency.

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"So what else is on the menu today?" Harry ... Corvus asked Snape when they returned from operation: 'Get rid of the portraits'. It had been a success. They'd managed to get all of them off the walls, and then locked them into the room which had once belonged to Regulus Black. With as many locking and silencing charms as the two teachers could come up with on the door for good measure.

The only one they left was Phineas Nigellus, who hadn't been in his frame. Snape stared at it darkly and then told them to leave it alone for now. Harry gave him a surprised look at that, but his father just shook his head at him. So he refrained from asking. There likely would be a plan. He didn't need to know everything. He already had enough on his plate. Plenty to think about, too.

He'd also resigned himself to a lot of work. But while he understood the need for it, he still felt so raw, and so unsettled, he doubted he would be able to concentrate on anything at the moment. Endless thoughts and questions kept chasing themselves in his mind, and his earlier headache was not getting any better. The encounter with Mrs. Black hadn't helped, either.

He rubbed his scar distractedly, closing his eyes as pain stabbed through his head yet again. And sighed unhappily when his fingers came away covered in greasy make-up. He'd have to be more careful with doing that.

"Headache?" his father's voice made him look back at the dark-eyed man.

"Ehm, yeah," he admitted. "It doesn't seem to want to quit."

He was tired from the shopping, and the upset about the portraits had exhausted him further. It was also fairly warm today, and the moisture in the air promised a summer storm later. The house felt suffocating.

Snape gave him a long, considering look. "I am sorry we have to keep pushing you so much," he said quietly. "But there just isn't enough time. I can give you something for that headache, though. Why don't you make yourself comfortable meanwhile?" he suggested, pointing at the couch in front of the unlit fireplace.

Harry certainly had no problem with that. Taking of his shoes and arranging the pillows took but a few moments. By the time the other wizard returned with a potion vial in his hand, he'd settled comfortably on the couch, relaxing his aching head against the fluffy softness.

"Here," Snape said, handing him the vial which Harry downed without hesitation, though he made a face at the taste.

He was a bit surprised when the older man pulled up a chair to sit next to him, and even more so when he felt his father's hands on his head. His eyes went up in surprise to meet the unreadable dark gaze.

"Relax," Snape commanded softly.

"Close your eyes," he added, as he started to gently massage Harry's head. Harry … Corvus sighed and tried to follow his father's orders. It actually was …. nice. The headache was finally obliging him by disappearing, and the gentle touch upon his scalp was unexpectedly comforting.

"Now, aside from learning how to, well, behave differently," Harry could have sworn there was a slight smirk in his father's voice. "The most urgent thing you need to pick up is Occlumency. Do not worry," he admonished, as Harry immediately tensed at the reminder. "We are trying a different approach this time. And Remus will be there to help, too."

"As far as I can determine, your main problem is that you constantly have so much on your mind, that you cannot stop your thoughts? And that you often have strong emotions which accompany those thoughts?"

Harry nodded, feeling despondent.

"Both of which would unfortunately make it quite hard for you to clear your mind successfully," Snape admitted with a sigh. "Especially with my former treatment of you thrown in, which no doubt stirred everything up even more."

Harry's … Corvus' heart gave an unexpected wrench at hearing the shame in … his father's voice. This was still so surreal. And yet … if someone offered to make this not have happened … he would decline. Because something in him badly wanted this. Even if it was very strange, and new, and he had no clue how to deal with most of it.

Once again his thoughts and emotions were starting to wander all over the place. And he really had no idea how to stop them.

"So we are going to start with relaxation exercises. I intend to guide you into a state where your thoughts eventually quiet down. And hopefully you can then link this experience to some strong image to use as a trigger or focus to return you to that state at will," Snape's voice explained quietly.

"And we will start right now."

Harry tensed up at that declaration.

"Relax. I am not going to do anything that could hurt you. Just concentrate on your breathing. Try to relax. Breathe in. Hold your breath for a couple of seconds. Let it out again," his father's voice was calm and smooth, washing over him like silk.

"Let the tension go. Breathe. Let your body relax. Yes, that's right," the voice sounded approving as Harry … Corvus tried to consciously relax his tense muscles.

"Breathe. Concentrate on that pattern, let the tension go. Breathe."

They continued like that for endless minutes. Harry followed the quiet directions his father gave him, feeling the tension slowly drain out of him until he felt like he was drifting on a peaceful cloud. He noted distantly that the endless thoughts seemed to have stilled as well.

"Now," Snape's suddenly commanding voice roused him slightly out of his trance-like state, but he felt too peaceful and sluggish to really react. "Remember this state. And try to find something you would strongly associate with it. Some image that comes to your mind …" the voice trailed off as Harry frowned slightly. What image could capture this feeling of boneless relaxation and floating? Thinking was rather hard at the moment.

Floating. What floated? Birds? Too active. Feathers were nice, but a bit too uncontrollable. Any strong wind would scatter them. Broomsticks might do, but there was too much movement and speed in the association. Clouds. Now clouds had … potential. Because clouds drifted, and were calm and peaceful.

Clouds were really quite handy. You could hide in them. Or hide _something_ in them. Like memories. And if you imagined them a bit denser, like pillows, you could smother an intruder with them. And even if they got torn apart, they could always reform. And if you flew into a cloud, it would blanket everything in white. Clouds. Occlude. There was actually a cloud hidden in the word. He felt absurdly pleased by that discovery.

"Look at me," he heard distantly, from that silky, soft voice which had been speaking to him. His eyelids seemed unwilling, and he was reluctant to do anything that might remove him from his current state. "Stay where you are, keep to that image, but look at me," the voice repeated.

He managed to open his eyes to a slit. And then he was not alone anymore. There was a soft touch on his mind. Compared to the harsh attacks he vaguely remembered, this touch was unobtrusive. The presence seemed content with observing him float. Yet he felt mildly disturbed and instinctively drew a cloud over himself that obscured him from the watchful presence. Everything was full of fluffy whiteness. Nothing could find him in here. And then his eyes fluttered close and the whiteness claimed him.

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oOoOoOoOo

When he became aware again, he was mildly disoriented. Everything was still so peaceful and relaxed, and surely this couldn't be right given everything that had happened? But worrying seemed too much of an effort, so he continued to drift in peace for long minutes. Gradually he became aware of quiet voices from the next room. Yet somehow he couldn't even muster the energy to be curious about what they were saying.

Finally the door opened and through slitted eyes he watched his father re-enter the room, followed closely by Remus Lupin.

"How are you feeling now?" Snape's voice was soft and undemanding.

"Ehm. Well? I think?" Thinking was way too much effort. So was keeping his eyes open.

"Do you think you can find that state again?" The silky smooth voice asked him.

"Hmm." Talking was an effort, too.

"Do you feel safe there?"

Of course he felt safe, hidden in the clouds.

"Hmm," he assented, nodding slightly.

"Open your eyes, please," the voice demanded of him, softly.

He managed to lever his eyelids open slightly to meet that dark, intense gaze. He imagined he heard a whispered '_Legilimens_' and then the presence in his mind was back. But this time it wasn't content with just watching him. He frowned in increasing displeasure as it started prodding at him, trying to drag him out of the clouds. Memories that had settled into quiescence were stirred up, and in mounting disquiet he watched them unfold before him.

No. He didn't want to be disturbed. He pushed back at the presence, wanting it gone, but it would not give. He smothered the memories in clouds, wanting them to be quiet again. The presence resisted, continuing to stir them up. He made the clouds firmer and pushed the presence away. But it refused to let go. So he wrapped it up in clouds, and then mentally shook them out forcefully like ridding a cloth of dust. And felt the presence finally fall away.

He heard a sigh. An intake of painful breath.

"Did he succeed?" this voice sounded hesitant. Remus, he thought.

"He threw me out, yes," the silky voice admitted. "Corvus, that was quite good. But now you need to come back out."

He didn't want to. Wanted to stay like this forever, without worries. Floating like a cloud. But hands were touching him now, briskly massaging his arms, his hands, his shoulders.

"Come on, come back up. Take deep breaths. Open your eyes," the voice insisted.

He was very reluctant. But the voice wouldn't leave him alone, and gradually the leaden weight of his body seemed to lighten, and his mind felt less sluggish. He tried to drag the feeling of peace up with him, though. Slowly his senses sharpened again.

"He must have been under quite deep," Remus remarked, sounding pleased.

"Hmm, I dare say so. He was most responsive," Snape seemed approving as well, and Harry tracked his gaze on him, still feeling heavy and boneless. "Can you count back from ten to one, Corvus? Imagine yourself waking up as you do so."

It felt like too much effort, but as he counted it was as if a part of him rose up from some strange depth it had sunk to. He blinked his eyes repeatedly. His father's hands continued to massage Harry's arms. Everything was very peaceful. He blinked again. Drew a deep breath. And released it, having nothing to say with it. The dark eyes continued to look at him, and there was a smile in them. It drew him, that smile, he wanted to drink it up, to bathe in it. It seemed to ease some hurt in him that he hadn't even been aware of. He felt his own face smile back, dreamily. At peace.

"Well, that was rather more successful than I had hoped for on a first try," his father stated calmly.

He blinked once more. What had he done? He tilted his head in puzzlement. Snape seemed to understand the unspoken question.

"I tried to get you to relax, and you actually went into a very deep trance, Corvus," he explained. Harry blinked again. He had?

"You also found an image which should work quite well for defending your mind," his father continued. "And you managed to throw me out without using a wand." The man sounded almost … proud?

"Now we need you to do that while in a conscious state of mind, of course."

Of course. _That_ sounded less promising, Harry thought.

"Ehm," he finally found his voice. "How am I meant to do that?"

Now that he was fully awake again the bad feelings were slowly creeping back. That beautiful dreamlike state seemed increasingly far away.

"Remember your image. Picture it as strongly as you can. Let it be your anchor, your focus. Allow it to pull you back to the state of not thinking. Know that it is your mind, and you will always have the advantage there. You just need to realise it. Try it. Breathe. And keep that image in the front of your mind. But do not close your eyes this time," the calm voice instructed, as Harry's eyes started to drift shut again. It took an effort to keep them open instead.

So. Clouds. Those were fortunately really easy to imagine. All he needed to do was see himself surrounded by soft, fluffy whiteness. It brought back a sense of floating. Of safety and tranquillity. Because even the most storm-torn cloud was quite … serene? And with the calm, his thoughts also stilled. As he sunk deeper into it, there was nothing but clouds around him, and a pair of dark, intense eyes before him, boring into his.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

"_Legilimens_."

And the presence was back. The attack was nowhere near as strong as it had been in their useless lessons last year, but all the same he was helpless to stop the memories from being dragged out. He watched in dismay as Uncle Vernon shouted at him, advancing menacingly. Saw himself sitting at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, with everyone whispering about him because they thought he'd cheated himself into the tournament. Saw Bellatrix cast a curse at Sirius, watched him start to fall …. no.

Not that one. That memory was now even more painful than before, because of _her_. He finally took hold of the clouds and shoved them in front of his memories. Blanketing everything in white. Pushed everything down. The presence continued to tug at his memories. But there were always more clouds. And he wrapped everything up in them, memories and presence alike. And the presence eventually gave up and went away when it couldn't find anything but white anymore.

Harry screwed his eyes shut and winced. The headache was back with a vengeance.

"Well," the voice sounded satisfied. He managed to lever one eyelid open to look at his father, squinting against the pain in his head. "That was not half bad. The headache is back?"

"Yeah," he croaked. He swallowed, trying to ease his dry throat.

"Better take this then," Snape advised, and handed Harry another vial which he managed to fumble open, downing it in one gulp. He accepted a glass of water from a solicitous Remus afterwards.

"You should not have any more of that today, but that was enough of this particular exercise for now, anyway."

"Will I always get a headache from it?" Harry asked finally, once his head stopped pounding.

"It will get easier," Snape assured him. "It is a lot like building up muscle."

Harry perked up at that.

"Unfortunately, it will probably be a while before you get to a strength where you will not have headaches anymore," his father added. " And I was not attacking particularly hard this time." Harry winced.

"Still, you _did_ manage to keep me from seeing anything more, and we can build this up gradually," his father continued. "Remus will help you with more relaxation and focus exercises before you go to sleep every night. But as you grow stronger, I will have to start attacking you without warning, too," he warned.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. But he nodded anyway to signal his understanding.

"But I am very pleased with your progress today," Snape told him, and that tiny smile was back in his father's eyes, warming him. "And most of all I am pleased and I must admit, surprised," the dark eyes were penetrating. "That you actually trusted me enough to go into such a deep trance for me. It made all the difference."

Harry … Corvus shrugged. It wasn't as if he'd done so consciously.

"Yes, I certainly did not expect that," Snape admitted, sounding a bit ashamed again. "I have not given you much reason for that trust in the past, I fear."

Harry looked at him, feeling conflicted. "You have been rather unfair," he pointed out. "I really could have done without the insults and that you constantly tried to put me down. And I don't want to think about last year's lessons," he added, grimacing.

Yet even just mentioning them did bring the memories back up, and the feelings that had gone with them. So, clouds. White fluffy clouds, isolating him from the distress. And those bad memories could get lost in there, too. He certainly didn't want them.

He blinked. Because it had actually worked. The clouds increasingly appeared like a stroke of genius. And they were very versatile, too.

"But I don't want to go back to how thing were then. It's like you are a totally different person now. One that I much prefer," he admitted, frankly meeting his father's dark gaze.

"Was that why you were apprehensive about meeting me earlier today?" Snape asked with a searching look in his eyes.

"Yes," Harry … Corvus allowed. "I keep thinking … fearing that you will revert. That all this will turn out to be just a dream."

He blinked again, surprised at the realisation. He _really_ didn't want to go back to before. And he was starting to actually _like_ the new Snape.

"And," he drew a deep breath, "I don't want to cling to the past," he finished, looking imploringly at his father. His father.

Who regarded him thoughtfully, and finally nodded. "Peace?" was all he said.

Harry closed his eyes. Drew another deep breath. Nodded.

"Peace," he agreed.

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oOoOoOoOo

"However," Severus cleared his throat after a moment. "While we are finished with this particular exercise for today …." he gave his son a suggestive look.

"... we obviously aren't finished with lessons, yes I get it," the boy muttered somewhat resentfully. "So what else do you have planned," he asked with a conciliatory gesture when Severus frowned at him in displeasure, obviously trying to stave off a scolding.

"Generally a lot of language lessons, I am afraid. You will need a working knowledge of Spanish, and preferable some more Latin, with your supposed upbringing."

The boy rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. He did not have to, his body language said it all for him.

Severus gave him a serious look. He did not want to antagonize his son. However, serious explanations, as well as giving him reasons for _why_ something was expected of him, seemed to work amazingly well on the boy. What a shame he had not figured that out several years ago … but then he had thought the boy a hopeless brat, arrogant, disrespectful and unwilling to apply himself. Once again he really had only himself to blame.

But regret would not help now. He needed to look forward. And have the boy do the same. Fortunately that seemed to require remarkable little effort.

"Having some language skills will certainly not hurt you in the long run," he pointed out. "And Latin is a useful language to learn for any practising wizard. I have always felt it a shame it is not taught at Hogwarts any more."

"Along with foreign languages in general," Remus chimed in helpfully. "I ended up teaching myself a lot of languages when I travelled about on the continent. I have always regretted the lack of a solid education in that respect." The werewolf sighed.

"However, Remus came up with an idea that should help with this particular workload," Severus said, keeping his attention on the boy.

"We shall subject you to the torture of subconscious learning," he explained, and smirked at his son's look of puzzlement. "Which means you get a Muggle tape-recorder recite language lessons at you while you sleep, which we will enhance with a light learning charm."

"There are _learning_ charms?" The boy exclaimed. "How come we never get taught anything like that?"

"Because they would not do much good to pupils in a school where most of the knowledge requires _understanding_," Severus said scathingly, watching his son flinch at the tone and feeling uncomfortable at seeing the reaction. He softened his voice and continued: "These charms are only good for rote learning … but that means they are quite good for acquiring vocabulary and the kind of unconscious knowledge language requires. You will need to learn grammar the normal way, however."

The boy still looked slightly rebellious. So Severus cleared his throat and tried to explain further: " They can also cause severe headaches as well as disorientation, unless the subject is carefully monitored. So you can understand why we would not want students to mess about with such spells without supervision?"

The boy … Corvus nodded in acceptance after a moment. "All right, I get that. What else?"

"Additional lessons in Defence," Severus said. The teenager visibly perked up at that. "From Remus, Miss Tonks and me. This will, however, be more than just practical defence work," he warned. "You need to acquire both a better understanding of spell theory and on why spells work the way they do …. and how they interact against each other."

"As you progress, you can also expect to find yourself ambushed," he added, and had to smile slightly at the mixed reaction his son gave to that. Clearly this idea excited the youth, while simultaneously filling him with some trepidation.

"But otherwise we will not bother with additional subjects, for now at least. As 'Corvus' was not educated at a school, it will be quite natural that your level in other classes will be somewhat … haphazardous. The only subject you must absolutely excel in is Defence. For the rest … simply do your best, and Remus will try to bring you up to the expected standard," Severus concluded, though the intense look he gave his son spoke volumes about the standards of excellence that would eventually be expected of him.

The boy seemed puzzled by something, however. He looked between Severus and Remus.

"I thought you weren't going to be at Hogwarts this year," he said, giving the werewolf a look that almost begged for a contradiction. And Severus had no right to feel slightly jealous. Especially not given how the boy … his son … had started to react to Severus himself.

"Not as a teacher, no," Remus said softly. "But we think it's a good idea for me to continue as 'Lord Black's tutor' until any lacks you have due to being 'home-schooled' are caught up. Frankly, you could easily afford such a tutor, and You-know-who is merely going to see it as Dumbledore's attempt to keep you under the Order's influence."

"Which will conveniently explain my continued difficulties in trying to tempt you over to his side," Severus took over the explanation smoothly. "One of Albus' better ideas, I must admit."

The boy … Corvus looked between the two of them again and finally nodded.

"So you will see me quite a lot at Hogwarts. Though we will have to wait and see how your schedule works out before we can figure out the when and where, obviously," Remus said with a fond smile at the boy.

"Unfortunately, you will have to retake your O.W.L.s as Corvus," Severus told his son. Who certainly did not look happy with that prospect. "But for now the teachers will all let you into their advanced classes. Albus will make sure of that."

"We plan to have you meet the relevant teachers for an evaluation about a week before term starts," Remus took over once more. "So they have an idea how you will fit into their classes." The werewolf chuckled at the obvious defeat in the boy's posture.

"Don't worry, we will only work you until you drop," he added cheerfully. "Then we shall revive you and start all over!"

Remus was now laughing openly at the boy's look of horror. And reached out and gave him a hug. Severus felt another faint stab of jealousy at seeing his son accept it willingly. He cleared his throat.

"Time for some late lunch now."

The other two broke apart.

"After that you should rest a bit, then Remus will take over your tutoring for the rest of today. We will keep a flexible schedule," he tried to put reassurance into his voice. "To allow for your level of energy and concentration."

And his son looked at him with those dark eyes that so resembled Severus' own, and smiled in appreciation.

Truly, what had he ever done to deserve this gift?

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oOoOoOoOo

"You realise how responsive he is to your words and even the tiniest hint of approval from you?" Remus asked him once Harry's steps could clearly be heard upstairs. The wolf waved his wand over the table and watched their lunch dishes move themselves over to the sink.

Severus nodded and sighed. "Yes. I must confess it makes me quite ashamed after the way I used to treat him. Though if it's what gets him to do his utmost now, I will not hesitate to use it. But tiny hints they will remain," he warned the other wizard. "I will never be a demonstrative person."

"Truth be told, I fear he would be overwhelmed if you were. I have often noticed how he reacts to Molly's mothering. Pleased on the one hand, and distinctly … uncomfortable on the other."

"Yes, he does not seem to handle signs of affection or even praise well. Then again, given that I will not be able to show him much, it is helpful that he does not expect much," Severus admitted with a shake of his head. "And to think I considered him arrogant and attention-seeking …"

"Do you wish things could have worked out differently?" Remus asked with obvious curiosity.

Severus shrugged. "Of course. But the circumstances being what they were … there were not really a lot of other options. The one thing I truly regret now is that I took my hate for James Potter out on … my own son."

He looked away in discomfort, seemingly fascinated by a crack in the flagstones.

"You did not know."

"Still, I should not have done it. Even if the boy _had_ been his son, it was uncalled for."

"What is done is done. All you can do now is do your best for him."

"And so I shall," the words were delivered with the quiet intensity of an oath.

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AN: After I discovered the cloud in occlude, and noted the similarity of the words, I got curious and looked them up in my Dictionary of English Etymology. (Yes, I actually possess something like that. It has about a thousand pages, too.) Sadly, there is no real connection, as cloud goes back to OE. Clūd, and occlude to the Latin word occlūdere formed from oc + claudere (close). Sniff. (which might go back to either MSw. snypta, or MDa. snyfte). What amazingly useless bits of information one can find … (read as: I would have made a lousy Ravenclaw.)

I had intended for this chapter to cover the rest of the day. However, it turned out too long in the end, so I split it up into two updates. I hope I'm not progressing too slowly, but this is not a very action-filled story. There is just too much introspection going on for that. And you know, I think the characters simply need to come to grips with the new situation before they can move on and actually _do_ stuff.

In case anyone wonders why Severus keeps thinking of Harry as 'the boy' – he has never called him Harry, thinking of him as Potter now feels wrong, and he isn't used to Corvus yet. Though he will call him that when talking to Harry directly. I know that the 'Harry … Corvus' will seem odd since you don't normally think of yourself by your name in first person. But it's the best I could come up with to show Harry's struggle with thinking of himself as Corvus. And Harry will for now stick to thinking of Severus as Snape, or his … father until he becomes more comfortable with him. He will also simply avoid addressing him directly by any name or title.

And thanks again for the reviews, it is very heartening when people liked something that I wasn't entirely happy about myself … :)

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	11. Runes

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

When Harry came back downstairs after a short but refreshing nap, he found Remus waiting for him in the sitting room, with a stack of books piled on the table next to the teacher. He was sipping from a steaming cup of tea which he set down when Harry entered the room, gesturing for him to take a seat and serve himself from the obviously freshly brewed teapot.

"Sleep well?" the teacher asked with a smile. Harry … Corvus nodded and concentrated on stirring milk and sugar into his cup of tea. He blew cautiously over the surface, watching the steam shiver and twist, before taking a careful sip. It was still too hot to drink, so he put it back down on the table and turned to face his teacher.

"So what are we doing now?" he asked, eyeing the pile of books. Remus followed his eyes and nodded.

"These here are the basic defence texts you _should_ have learned from the last five years, plus a few other useful books. We need to go over them to figure out which bits you have managed to pick up despite the horrible lack of teaching you had. Thanks to that defence club you ran, your grasp of the subject appears excellent, but well, you didn't exactly have many teachers who actually followed the syllabus, so there will likely be gaps," Remus stated, frowning.

Harry … Corvus rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah, if Dumbledore had held a contest of 'teacher most likely to not actually teach anything useful while trying to harm Harry Potter' he'd have had some real winners there. Except you, of course," he added with an apologetic smile.

The werewolf laughed, and slapped his thigh. "I sure hope so. Though even I ended up being a threat to you," he concluded, his face darkening with the memory.

Harry just waved his hands and picked his cup up again. It was drinkable by now, so he had something to occupy himself with while Remus sorted himself out.

"Anyway, not only is it important for you to learn to defend yourself, since you have been a target ever since you started school, but Corvus Black supposedly lived with an expert in Defence. So he really needs to be even more top-notch in that area than even Harry Potter is," Remus winked at Harry, his good humour obviously restored.

"So we are going to go over all the spell-work you should know by now, to see if there is anything that you missed or that needs correction … or simply more practise."

"Sounds like fun," Harry grinned at his companion.

"Hmm, but once you have tired yourself out, we shall continue with you trying to figure out all the ways the spells could be useful in an actual dangerous situation," Remus added, with a smirk at seeing Harry wrinkle his nose and crunch up his brow.

"Okay, that's less fun," Harry … Corvus admitted.

"Well, the least fun will be working on the spell theory behind some of them, but we'll leave that for later. Right now," the teacher said as he opened the first book. "We shall start with this list of first year spells." And he grinned wickedly as Harry groaned.

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oOoOoOoOo

By the time dinner came around, Harry felt rather tired. They had managed to work halfway through the second year material, but were slowing down now as the material became more complex and the spells more difficult. But at least he'd been too occupied to worry about such things as 'who his parents really were'. At first he'd been busy performing spell after spell, and then trying to think up situations where they would be useful, or how to counter them if they were cast at him. It was actually amazing what even starting level spells could accomplish, if you just used them right.

Or as Remus pointed out, in many ways a wizard was only as good as his imagination in using the spells he knew. Harry had certainly come to the conclusion that power clearly wasn't everything. All this had kept his thoughts nicely occupied. But now, as he was dawdling over the last remains of his dinner, he found his mind starting to worry once again. He poked an errant piece of carrot around on his plate, brooding about the situation and how he could possibly pull this off.

He found it quite difficult to think of himself as Corvus. Obviously Remus had the same problem, as he kept variously addressing Harry … Corvus by both names, and there'd been distress in his eyes every time. Mostly the teacher had avoided Harry's name altogether if possible, and called him Cub instead. Then again, it had only been two days. Two days. It was … bloody amazing how much had changed in just two days. And yesterday he'd still been busy trying to think of himself as Harry. So he probably shouldn't stress about not being used to Corvus yet.

He sighed. The carrot was now ganging up with a stalk of broccoli on some left over noodles. He felt tired from sitting up straight the whole time. The bloody corset vest simply wouldn't allow for much slouching, and he'd discovered that keeping himself upright constantly was rather exhausting. He sighed again.

"Harry," Remus said softly. "It will get easier. Try not to think about it too much."

"That's just a bit hard with this thing," he snarled and tapped his chest. "Reminding me all the time."

Remus raised an eyebrow at him and looked impressed.

"What?" he bit out. He was more than just mildly irritated now.

"Oh, simply that you've managed to pick up quite a formidable scowl there," Remus said and laughed, reaching a hand across to ruffle Harry's … Corvus' hair.

Harry batted it away. He didn't feel playful at the moment. Unfortunately the older wizard's laughter was very infectious. He tried to resist it. He really did. In the end it did no good. He had to join in the laughter, because he was being silly. The corset was only an inconvenience. He'd get used to it. He'd get used to being Corvus. And he'd have to do so on the instinctive level, because as long as he had to think about it … that wouldn't work.

"Don't tell me I'm already turning into my father," he finally asked plaintively, putting on an exaggerated despairing expression. Which made Remus laugh even harder.

And while laughing about it didn't actually help his situation as such … it still made him feel a lot better.

.

oOoOoOoOo

The storm had started at some point before the end of dinner, but since they'd been eating in the windowless kitchen they hadn't noticed. But now Harry … Corvus was perched in the window-seat of the dark library, watching the wind toss the branches in the garden. It rained like mad at the moment, and occasional flashes of lightning lit everything up eerily. He was glad he'd had the foresight of putting cheesecloth over the new seedlings yesterday, and to construct a drainage, or they'd have been washed out by now. It was a truly torrential storm. Distant thunder growled almost continuously, punctuated ever so often by sharp clashes from closer strikes of lightning.

He brushed an errant curl back behind his ear and leaned his forehead against the cool window-pane. He was starting to get another headache. At least the rain was cooling everything down. Today's heat had added another layer of misery to the shopping trip. Of course most shops had been climate controlled. Which he hated even more, having to go from sweltering hot to barely above freezing. Or at least it seemed that way. They always put those things way too low in his opinion. And all those clothes they'd gotten for him … he felt quite uncomfortable with the sudden largesse.

He was roused from his musings by a spectacular clash of thunder which sounded as if it was right on top of the house. He almost jumped away from the window, and had to catch himself from falling by clutching hard at the window seat. The next moment he jumped again, as he was badly startled by a chuckle right next to his ear.

"Woah, Cub," Remus apologised. "I didn't mean to surprise you. Guess you did not hear me come in with all that noise out there."

He gestured towards the window, where the garden was still being treated to pouring rain, and casually settled himself beside Harry on the window-seat.

"How are you doing?" he asked with some concern, seeing Harry grimace.

"Just another headache," Harry admitted ruefully. "I guess I'd better get used to those," he sighed unhappily.

"Hmm," Remus agreed. "Unfortunately, there is a limit to how many painkiller potions you can take. Those blasted things can become addictive."

They both fell quiet then, watching the thunderstorm in silence. After a while it showed signs of abating, though the rain continued steadily. The sound of it drumming on the roofs, dripping from overhangs and gurgling down drains was strangely soothing. Harry … Corvus found himself drifting into a light doze, leaning comfortably against Remus' shoulder. The older man finally sighed and tapped Harry's nose to get his attention.

"I'm sorry, but I fear we have a bit more work to do tonight," he said with an apologetic smile. Harry rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. Instead he stretched, trying to easy his stiff back.

"Can I at least get out of this infernal thing?" he asked hopefully.

Remus laughed and ruffled Harry's … no definitely Corvus' curls. Those irritating curls totally belonged to Corvus.

"Of course," he agreed easily. "In fact I was going to suggest taking this up to your bedroom and getting comfy."

"We are going to start with the language lessons," he explained. "Just a bit of introduction to basic grammar, and then I'll set you up with the tapes. And run some relaxation exercises past you before you fall asleep. Why don't you go up and get changed for bed? Make yourself comfortable, and I'll be along in a quarter-hour or so."

Harry nodded. "Right," he agreed. That sounded acceptable. It was of course still rather early, but he felt tired after this exhausting day. Falling asleep was unlikely to be a problem.

.

oOoOoOoOo

But when Harry got up and headed towards the door, Remus' words stopped him before he could leave.

"Oh, sorry, I almost forgot. Could you come over here for a few minutes before you go upstairs?" Remus gestured towards the small round table in the middle of the library.

Once they had settled there, a flick of Remus' wand set several candles alight. The teacher then put the wand down on top of a notebook opened to a new blank page. There was also a pile of books on the table, most of which seemed to have the word 'rune' in the title somewhere.

"May I have a look at your hand," he asked earnestly, giving Harry … Corvus a searching look.

"Sure, why not?" Harry replied, blinking in surprise.

"You remember me saying that I had an idea about that scars?"

"Yeah. So … did you come up with something?"

"I think so," Remus said, holding out his own hand for Harry's. "It's something that certainly should work in theory."

He carefully examined Harry's hand, tilting it to catch the light from different angles, and running his thumb over the raised scar-tissue. He then proceeded to make an exact copy of the scar on a piece of paper. Harry simply watched him in bafflement. The teacher finally looked up and caught his gaze.

"You don't have any idea what I intend to do, do you?" he asked, smiling cheerfully.

"Can't say that I do," Harry admitted freely.

Remus gave the pile of books a suggestive glance.

"Runes?"

"See, you do know after all," the older wizard said with a laugh.

Harry just looked at him questioningly.

"You never took Ancient Runes, did you?" Remus asked.

Harry … Corvus sighed and shook his head. "No," he replied. "I wish I'd done that though, or Arithmancy. It would certainly have been more useful than Divination. That really was a waste of time. And I could have done without the regular predictions of my death," he added with a grimace.

"Well, if you are interested, I could teach you a bit about those subjects in the future. Especially runes can be very useful under many circumstances, especially when you are looking for more … permanent spell-work."

"See, what I want to try is to inscribe runes over the scar, supplanting the old words. Their meaning will be somewhat similar to the words _she_ used … but at the same time quite different. Right now this is a negative sentiment," Remus said firmly, tapping the scar with his finger. "I want to change it into a positive statement. So that it not only covers up the scar, but also shifts it from something defeatist into an expression of yourself."

"The new meaning I'm aiming for would very roughly read something like 'I will tell the truth'," Remus explained, gazing intently at him.

"Hmm. Yeah, I can see what you are trying to do with that change," Harry … Corvus said thoughtfully. "The … outcome of the two sentences is kind of the same. But this," he looked down on his hand in distaste. "Forbids me from doing something. It takes away my rights."

"Yes. It prohibits and restricts. And while telling lies would not necessarily be considered a good thing under most circumstances ..."

"Sometimes you have to," Harry finished.

"But your version … ," he tilted his head in thought. "Leaves the decision whether I do or not up to me."

"That is the intention, yes. It's something that should be empowering. By your will and intent you tell the truth, not because you are forced to."

"But I will have to lie a lot in the future," Harry said, giving his teacher a dark look.

"Yes and no. In many ways you will simply be true to yourself."

"Hmm. True to myself. Do you think I wasn't before?"

Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes. The werewolf was by now looking a bit tired as well.

"That is a difficult question to answer. But from all you have told us in the last couple of days … you _have_ kept a lot hidden."

Harry … Corvus lowered his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted softly. "I haven't necessarily told lies but ..."

"The good old question whether omission and evasion is a lie or not, yes."

Harry nodded. "But I certainly never felt very comfortable being Harry Potter. So I guess I wasn't really true to myself then, was I?"

"Probably not, no."

Harry smiled softly at the older wizard. "You know, I think this _is_ a very good idea. It could help me get a new outlook on this whole situation."

Remus nodded, returning his smile happily.

"So … any idea yet what runes you wanted to use?" Harry asked slowly.

"Well, first you must understand that the interpretation of runes isn't very … clear-cut. They have multiple meanings. And a lot of subtle shadings of interpretation. And there are only a handful, compared to the innumerable words modern language uses. So it is a matter of picking out something that comes close to the meaning one intends … in something like this at least. Their magical meanings are more defined."

Harry nodded earnestly.

"We have five words in that deplorable sentence. However, I want to use these four runes to override it. The first one needs to express the self, or the 'I', and represents you and your intent. Now the best for that purpose is the rune Mannaz, which stands for man or mankind, and in a divinatory context it would signify the self, but also family or community, and relationships."

Remus opened his note-book to a fresh page and drew the runes while he continued his explanation.

"The next one will be Dagaz, the day rune. It stands for success, awakening, certainty, for causing a positive outcome. It is about transformation, the power of change directed by your will. This should counteract that 'must not' of the old sentence."

"To replace the 'tell' I would choose Sowilo, the sun rune. Again it denotes success, but also positive energy, and power. There simply is no rune for 'telling'," the teacher explained. "However, the sun is the source of all radiation and light, which allows the truth to be shown. There is a strong element of … revelation and display about the sun."

"Now the last one is even trickier, since there is no rune that directly stands for truth," Remus said. "So the best I could come up with is Kenaz, the 'torch' rune. I think it's quite suitable, though, as it signifies wisdom, insight and knowledge. And well, given that 'telling the truth' will not always be possible for you anyway … this is probably actually better," he said, with an intent look at Harry.

Harry blinked in surprise, staring at his teacher. Remus normally appeared so placid, and even a bit vague at times. But right now he was not only very enthusiastic, but also strangely … forceful. Determined. This wasn't a side of him Harry … Corvus had ever seen. But it was inspiring.

And he could take this transformation of his scar as a symbol for his whole life. To take something … bad, and shift it, even if only by a small degree, into something else that was more constructive. To change a negative into a positive through insight and willpower. It was somehow all there in those four innocent looking runes. He found himself suddenly eager to have this done.

"So when can we do this?"

"In a week or two. I need to do a bit more research, mostly about how to apply the runes. And I have an ...interesting setting for the ritual in mind."

Harry blinked again, feeling taken aback. "Ritual?"

"Hmm, maybe ritual isn't quite the right word for it. Think of it simply as … creating an appropriate setting. Something to help your mind rid itself of unwanted and unwholesome past influences," Remus explained, tapping Harry's scar at the last words. "And aiding in strengthening the runes we will replace this with."

"You see, how effective this will be, depends to a great degree on you and the conviction you can put behind it," the teacher gave Harry a searching look. Harry nodded earnestly to show his understanding.

"Now I know that you did not really believe what she made you write, and in fact fought against it. Which is why this," he tapped Harry's hand again. "Doesn't actually influence your behaviour."

Harry gave him an appalled look. "Should it?" he asked dumbfounded.

Remus nodded slowly. "Yes," he confirmed. "This works a lot like a minor _Imperius_ curse. Blood quills _are_ sometimes used in a beneficial setting. To be precise, for the signing of important, _binding_ contracts. As such, they are used with the full knowledge and agreement of the person using them, and signing with them creates something close to an unbreakable vow."

Harry felt sick. "Then why ..." he began.

"Why aren't you forced to comply? Think, Harry. What spell can you throw off?"

"Oh. Right."

"Indeed. She was not only torturing you, but also trying to overcome your resistance. But you were stronger than her," Remus said with a proud smile, covering Harry's hands with his own. "And you were stronger than the compulsion of the quill."

"However," he continued, his expression turning serious. "It was repeated how many times? And every time it left a minute residue in you. It weakened you, because it was an assault against your will. It also made you stronger at the same time, but it left a tiny … crack of doubt."

Harry just stared at him, feeling suddenly terrified.

"Oh, Cub," Remus exclaimed, and tightened his hold on Harry's hands. "Don't worry. This," he motioned with his chin to the page where he had earlier drawn the runic symbols. "Will help set it to rights. And therefore it is important that we do it perfectly, because if we manage … you will emerge all the stronger for it. It will turn from a slight weakness into something that is actually a defence against the dark."

Harry … Corvus nodded, feeling the moment of dread drain away. "Okay," he said slowly. "Is there anything I can do to … prepare for it?"

"Hmm. It would actually be a good idea if you meditated on the runes and their meaning for you and your future whenever you can. Here," Remus declared, taking a fresh page of parchment and drawing the runic symbols again, one below the other. He then wrote the meanings he'd discussed with Harry beside each one. While he waved the page gently to help it dry, he gave Harry a gentle smile.

"You are one extraordinary young man," he told Harry proudly. When he wanted to protest, Remus held up his other hand to silence him.

"No, you are. Because again and again, you have beaten the odds. And you will keep doing so, because you don't let the small things bear you down. And you face the big ones bravely, and fear does not stop you. Luck may have played an important role in your past encounters with You-know-who, but do you know what was important about that?" he asked Harry … Corvus seriously.

He shook his head.

"The fact that you don't _rely_ on that luck. You take it and use it to your advantage when it happens, but you don't bank on it . But you can think on your feet, and use anything available to turn things in your favour. And this," he patted Harry's hand once more. "Will be another case of turning something bad into something that helps you. And makes you stronger."

"Because in the end, to become … more than you were before, you need adversity. A person who always gets given everything, will never grow in personality," Remus explained, with another searching look.

"Rather like my cousin, or Malfoy. Who _is_ actually my cousin now," Harry … Corvus offered after a thoughtful pause. "When you get everything you want, you just become spoiled. And useless, really."

"Yes, exactly. Now I'm not saying that this makes everything bad that has happened to you good, or right. It doesn't. But what _is_ good about it, is that you have learned from it. That you have grown because of it, and shaped yourself into a better person. But ..."

"But?"

"But you need to believe it, too. You have one great weakness, and that is your self-confidence. You doubt yourself too much, Harry. _Corvus_," Remus corrected himself, shaking his head in exasperation. "You are aware of your weaknesses, and that is good. But you also need to know your strengths. You need to trust in yourself."

Harry nodded. Because Remus _was_ right. He carefully picked up the parchment with the runes and let his eyes run over them, before looking back up at the teacher.

"These are a lot about self-confidence, aren't they?"

"Yes. Something to help you erase at least some of the doubts plaguing you. And to remind you that even if you are surrounded by darkness, you carry the daylight and the sun and a beacon with you. They can light your way through the doubt and the dark."

Harry stared at the runes. He couldn't describe the feeling that had taken hold of him at hearing Remus' words, but it was … big. Something that wanted to burst out of him and make him cry and shout in joy simultaneously. Because this … was just right. This was what he needed. Something deceptively simple, and at the same time very profound. He could use this to chase the shadows of doubt away. Who cared about the tarnish, when he could light a flame right in his heart that kept the darkness at bay.

It was a moment of illumination. Because this would lighten his load, and guide him away from the crushing self-doubts. Because he was … himself. And he could shine like the sun, and burn away the uncertainties. No matter that he didn't always get it right. That he made mistakes. He would learn from them, and move on, and become stronger. Better than he had been. And if you carried a light with you, the darkness couldn't touch you. You could wade right through it, and wouldn't be tainted.

It was the flame of conviction, of knowing you did things for the right reasons, and as best as you could. And that if you failed, you would simply keep going. Trying again until you got it right. That as long as you willingly carried the light in your heart, nothing could extinguish it. He had to blink back tears at the enormity of this emotion that felt like his heart was bursting.

"Cub?"

"Thank you," he said fervently, when he finally got enough control over his voice. "Thank you. Thank you."

"For what?"

"This," he realised that his hands still clutching the parchment were shaking. "This is exactly what I needed," he said and turned a jubilant smile on Remus. "It's … just right. Perfect."

"Oh, Cub," the teacher said, smiling back proudly. "Then I'm even happier that I thought of it."

Harry … Corvus nodded avidly. "Yes. Thank you," he repeated.

"All right," Remus smiled at him fondly. "I guess that's all about this for now then. So up to bed with you. I'll be with you soon."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Twenty minutes later he'd settled into bed, stretching out fully and luxuriating in the feeling of not being constantly constrained by the corset. It certainly served as a reminder that things were different. He sighed. He might get used to it eventually. Maybe. He couldn't imagine ever getting used to the permanent feeling of confinement. Though it was also … supportive, in a way.

Perhaps he should try to concentrate on that aspect of it? Actually, there was no perhaps about it. In the light of his earlier self-discovery, it was so obvious. It was simply another thing he could use to make himself better. A minor annoyance he could turn into a strength. Concentrate on the positive, not the negative.

Right then Remus knocked on the door, entering after a moment.

"So, nice and comfy?" he asked with a smile, which grew wider at Harry' enthusiastic nod. "Here, these are a couple of books on Spanish grammar. I'll just go through some of the basics with you tonight, comparing it to how it works in English."

And so they did. It was easier than he'd expected. And Harry was suddenly grateful for strict Miss Jenkins, who'd drilled them in English grammar during primary school. He hadn't appreciated it much then. But now it turned out to be ever so much easier to learn a foreign grammar when you had a solid grounding in how things worked in your own language. Of course, it would be a while before he could actually apply what they'd started on today, but it still felt like they'd made progress.

An hour later Remus declared himself satisfied with what they had accomplished, and Harry … Corvus kept yawning. So they started in on the relaxation stuff. Which was, well, relaxing. Especially when he was already feeling sleepy. Trying to breathe slowly and steadily, while feeling himself sink into fluffy white clouds and attempting to not think about anything, was really nice. He was drifting on the edge of sleep when Remus brought out the tape recorder.

"Now these tapes are excellent for our purpose," he explained, smiling softly as he slotted one into the old Muggle contraption.

"The recorder fortunately runs on batteries. This first one has mostly simple phrases and core expressions that are used a lot … everyday stuff, exactly like children would hear when they first learn the language. I have others with vocabulary and verb forms, too. And with the charm added … I hope you will be able to pick up a lot overnight without actually having to sit down and learn it consciously."

Harry was all right with that. He was also fine with Remus waving his wand at him, muttering something under his breath. And then the teacher tucked him in, gently brushed a few locks from Harry's brow, and left the room. While he drifted off to sleep, securely wrapped in blankets and fluffy whiteness, he heard the tape recorder drone on. He quite liked the sound. Spanish had a very nice and melodic cadence. Just before he finally fell asleep, his eyes came to rest on the dream-catcher.

And had there been an observer in the room, they would have seen a smile on his face when sleep claimed him.

.

oOoOoOoOo


	12. Nymphadora

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry's body was quite well-rested when he woke up the next day. His sleep had been untroubled, despite not having taken any potions. His mind, however, felt decidedly strange. The phrases from the Spanish lesson tape kept echoing around his head in a very disconcerting way. It certainly gave him an appreciation for his father's warnings about using a learning charm unsupervised.

On the other hand, everything from the tape seemed deeply etched into his memory. He doubted he'd be able to forget any of it again. Which made learning the language in such a short time actually a real possibility, if he could soak up the vocabulary while he slept. At the moment, all he had were disjointed bits, but once his knowledge of grammar became more extensive, it would hopefully all slot into place. It was certainly an optimistic note to start the day on.

Still, now that he was awake, the constant echoing of the phrases was getting increasingly distracting and uncomfortable. Therefore the very first thing he did was to hastily throw on a robe and look for Remus to take the charm off him. He gave the portrait of Phineas Nigellus a cursory glance as he moved past it, but the frame remained empty. A knock on Remus' door received no answer, so he went downstairs to the kitchen. Remus turned to give him a welcoming smile when Harry walked in, obviously in the middle of setting up for breakfast.

"Good morning, … Corvus," he said, his voice faltering for a moment. The teacher's smile turned rueful. "Sorry, that name will take me a bit longer to get used to."

"Good morning, Remus," Harry … Corvus replied with an answering rueful look. "Don't worry, I have the same problem."

"I can imagine. Did you sleep well?" Remus' eyes searched Harry's face carefully.

"Yeah, quite well, and the tape and spell do seem to work," Harry offered.

"No problems then?"

"Well, I have this strange echoing effect in my head. Which is why I came straight down," he added apologetically, tugging at his untidy robe. "Could you stop the spell now, please?"

"Of course, cub. Although I'd better teach you how to cast the counter yourself. For the future, you know. It is a variety of the normal _finite incantatem_," he explained, letting his wand drop into his hand from a wrist holder. "Did you bring your wand?"

Harry fished it out of his pocket, which prompted Remus to give a disapproving hum.

"We will need to get you a wrist holder, and teach you how to use it properly. Pockets just will not do," he said with a shake of his head. "It's much too easy to loose your wand that way or even damage it accidentally. Quite aside from the fact that having to fumble it out of a pocket, where it can snag, really slows down your reaction time when you need it in a hurry."

"Now the wand-movement is like this... " Remus explained, demonstrating a few of times. He watched with a critical eye as Harry attempted to copy his teacher's movements.

"Yes, that's right. The incantation is _finite __recordatio_. Go on, give it a try."

The echoing stopped instantly when Harry cast the spell, pronouncing the words carefully. The resulting silence in his head was a real blessing. The phrases, however, were still all there in his memory when he thought about them. He gave Remus a relieved smile.

"Thanks, Remus."

"You are very welcome, Corvus."

"Right. I still need to get dressed, but … do you think we could have the lesson outside this morning? The weather's really nice again," Harry said with a yearning look.

"Sure thing," Remus replied, turning back to the table. "Hurry up though, breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

.

oOoOoOoOo

A few hours later, Harry … Corvus was changing into one of … Corvus' new outfits, after a quick shower to wash the dirt from working in the garden from his body. It had been a wonderful morning. Remus had managed to intermingle language lessons with spell theory and quizzing Harry about the most effective ways to use a variety of spells. The teacher also kept throwing phrases from last night's tape at … Corvus, who found himself replying to them with unconscious ease. He even got the pronunciation and inflections right, according to Remus.

Meanwhile he'd kept his hands busy pruning rose bushes and taming the overgrown shrubbery, and filling a bucket or two with weeds pulled from the flowerbeds. Altogether the morning had been productive, relaxing, and interesting. And most of all, it had been _fun_. Which he felt vaguely guilty about. Should learning and working hard really be fun? Then again, maybe that's exactly what learning ought to be like? And hard work which produced obvious and pleasing results was at the very least satisfying, especially if it was done entirely voluntarily. And it had been his own garden he was fixing up, not someone else's.

In any case he was still full of enthusiastic and unexpectedly happy feelings when he went downstairs for lunch, even though he was back to enduring the damn … supportive corset again. He was also a bit uncomfortable with his new finery. Used to wearing halfway rags as he'd been for most of his life, even the simplest of his new clothing felt ridiculously fancy. He pushed the kitchen door open to find the three adults already sitting down for lunch.

"A good day to you, Corvus. It seems you are in excellent spirits?" Dumbledore greeted him with one of his trademark fond smiles.

He smiled back at the headmaster.

"Hello, Professor. Yes, I had a brilliant morning. I got to do some work in the garden while Remus gave me lessons. He even transfigured the wall of the garden shed into a blackboard! Oh, and the thing with the tape worked really well, too."

"That is good to hear, dear boy. Now come and sit down so we can get started with lunch, Nymphadora will be here soon."

He took the empty seat next to Snape and gave the man a shy smile, which received a nod and a faint smile in return. Which reminded him of another problem, because he had no clue what he should call his father now. He could hardly call him Snape, and he didn't feel up to addressing him as father, or even worse _dad_ … yet. Aside from the fact that he didn't know how such an appellation would be received by … his father. And Snape didn't seem to appreciate being called sir or Professor either, now that he knew … Corvus was his son.

He kept thinking about the problem all during lunch, occasionally sneaking glances at his father. Apparently he was more obvious about it than he thought, because the third time he did that, he was met with a raised eyebrow. He gave Snape a slight shrug in reply, and glanced for a moment at the clock ticking on the wall. His father seemed to get the message, which was _later_, as he just gave … Corvus a nod in reply and resumed eating with a relaxed air.

Once they'd finished their meal, Remus and Dumbledore went upstairs to meet with Tonks, leaving Harry alone with his father. Normally he would have started doing the dishes out of sheer reflex, but he wasn't exactly dressed for doing housework. Instead he watched with interest as Snape moved the dishes to the sink with a spell. He was so fascinated by the parade of levitating plates and cutlery that he gave a start when his father suddenly spoke up.

"So. What where all those glances about?" Snape asked, sounding amused but friendly.

It was still so strange to hear the man speak like this. To him. Not that he was complaining. Oh no. He'd take the new Snape behaviour over the old one every time. But that didn't make it any less strange. However, he owed his father an explanation. His father. Who gave him faint smiles, and behaved … calm and supportive, and who so far had not shown any signs of falling back into his old routine aside from a bit of impatience now and then.

He turned around and met his father's dark gaze. Which was considering and calculating like usual, but he was starting to think of that as not a bad thing. Which was strange too, but also reassuring. After all, he would have to handle the Slytherins in the near future. He was bound to _be_ one himself, all too soon. So his developing an appreciation of the Slytherin way of thinking was all to the good. And also a bit scary, how easily he was slipping into it. Then again, he could have been one all this time, if he'd accepted the Hat's suggestions, so maybe it wasn't really surprising.

"Oh, it's just that I can't figure out what I should call you … now," he said, trying to sound unconcerned and not as if this was a big deal.

"Ah. I see," Snape said, and unexpectedly took a step forward to put his hands on … Corvus' shoulders. He stared up at his father, surprised by the sudden closeness. Dark eyes were looking into his intently. The intensity of the regard almost made him shiver.

"Do not worry too much about that for now," Snape said softly. "It will likely sort itself out, and as long as you do not turn into a disrespectful brat, I will not censure you for what you chose to call me."

"But isn't that what you always thought I was?"

"Thought, indeed. I _think_ we both know better now, don't we?"

He nodded in reply, still caught in his father's unrelenting gaze.

"I have something for you. I fear it is a bit late, but … I wished to give you a gift for your birthday, too," Snape said, and released Harry's shoulders to collect a wrapped box from the sideboard. He held it out for Harry … Corvus to take. It turned out to be fairly heavy for its size. He stared at it for a moment, struck by an unexpected feeling of wonder. His father had gotten him a present for his birthday. He looked back up into the dark regard, marking the faint smile lurking once again on the otherwise impassive face.

"Thank you," was all he could say, clutching the box reverently.

"Are you going to open it, too?"

A few days ago he would have bristled at the sarcastic tone, but accompanied as it was by an ironically raised eyebrow and that lurking smile, he found himself smiling back instead. Shedding the wrapping and opening the box revealed a smooth glass sphere, rather like a paperweight, which seemed to be full of drifting clouds. They moved a bit when he gave the globe an experimental shake.

"It may look like just a fancy paperweight, but it is charmed to respond to your emotional state. If you get upset or angry, the clouds will turn into a miniature storm, and they will be calm and floating when you are relaxed and in a good mood."

Well, at the moment those clouds were definitely happy ones. He smiled down at the globe in his hands, cradling it gently.

"I thought it might be useful if you need to do calming exercises, and given what you choose as your trigger for Occlumency ..." Snape's voice actually had an insecure edge.

Which just would not do.

"Thank you," he repeated, turning the happy smile on his father. Who caught his breath, and this time Harry was positive he wasn't merely imagining the answering smile on Severus Snape's face.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Hello, Dora," Remus greeted her with a shy smile as she stumbled from the floo, quickly reaching out a hand to keep her from falling over the next moment. "Honestly, I'm sure you aren't really that clumsy?"

"Well, maybe I am," she replied with a cheeky grin. "Maybe I'm not. And no-one will ever be able to tell!" she exclaimed happily, dusting herself off vigorously. "You really need to clean out the fireplace, though."

"Hmm," he agreed vaguely. "Lots to do, little time to do it in," he added with a wink, grabbing her hand and towing her from the room.

"Where are we going?"

"To the library. There's something there we need to show you."

"Oh, all right," she agreed with a roll of her eyes. "But let it be noted I hate that gloomy place."

He laughed and agreed easily. "You are hardly the only one."

Once through the door they were met by a smiling headmaster.

"How are you, dear Nymphadora?" the old man asked with an amused twinkle at her instant scowl. "Still not fond of your own name, I presume?"

"Call me Tonks," she told him fiercely. "Or at least Dora, if you must."

"Certainly, Dora," he agreed, gesturing her to take a seat at a table in the middle of the room, which was surrounded by several chairs.

"Now," he began once the three of them had settled down. "We have called you here, because we need your help. We need you to impersonate someone for a few weeks."

She raised an eyebrow in interest. "I take it this is something I need to keep from the ministry and the Aurors?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily and fixed her with a piercing gaze.

"Yes. Very much so. In fact, before we can proceed, we require you to swear an oath on your magic to not divulge anything you will learn ... to anyone," he told her earnestly.

"Okay … that's asking for a lot," she replied with a frown.

"I know. However, what you will learn, if you swear is … a very big secret. And one which could cost lives if it were found out too soon."

"Wow. And you want to let _me_ in on it?"

"You are uniquely qualified to help us with this matter, for various reasons. Your ability to impersonate someone long-term without resorting to charms or Polyjuice being, of course, the most important."

"You wouldn't involve me, if it wasn't for that, would you?"

"No," he replied frankly. "We would not. The fewer people learn of this, the better. Until now, there were only four people in on this secret, with you it will be five. And this is the number it will stay at, unless we really have to bring someone else in. Which hopefully will not be until after Voldemort has found a permanent end, at which point keeping it will become unimportant in any case."

She blinked at the old wizard. "This sounds more serious by the minute," she said carefully, thinking rapidly. "I am tempted to take your oath, but how likely is this to put me in conflict with my _job_?"

"Seriously? Quite a bit, unfortunately. But only if they find out about it. And since anyone but ourselves finding out about it is the absolute last thing we want to happen … you should be relatively safe."

"Who are the other two then, aside from you and Remus, obviously? If you can tell me at least that much?"

"One is Professor Snape. The other is the one this secret is about, so I cannot yet tell you."

"If I don't agree, you will obliviate me, won't you?" she asked more calmly than she really felt.

The headmaster's expression was grave when he simply nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought hard. This sounded like a big thing, and to be in on it … to be trusted with something that important, was tempting. With the Aurors, she was still stuck on doing meaningless paperwork and trainee level missions at best. And then there was the fact that obviously Remus was involved, too. She opened her eyes again and darted a quick look at the werewolf. He was watching her intently. Hard to tell why, exactly, but still … she smiled inwardly. She returned her gaze to Dumbledore, who had a knowing look in his eyes. His lips twitched a bit as he raised an eyebrow at her.

"And? What decision have you come to?" he asked her politely, but the knowing twinkle didn't leave his eyes.

"Oh, all right. You've managed to have my curiosity get the better of me," she said with a little sigh. Her eyes flicked back to Remus, who was giving her a relieved smile. "So what am I swearing?"

"I, Nymphadora Tonks, swear on my magic that I shall not in any form divulge anything I learn in this house during this summer, nor regarding the people currently resident in this house, to anybody not presently in this house, unless asked to do so by someone present at the moment in Number 12, Grimmauld Place. So mote it be," Dumbledore calmly told her the wording, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

With her heart suddenly beating faster, she stood up and reached out to twine her hand around his. She watched Remus get up as well, flipping his wand down from an arm sheet and holding it over their clasped ones. The younger wizard's eyes went between her and Dumbledore, ending up on her again with a reassuring smile before he let his wand touch their entwined hands, his face taking on a look of concentration.

Her eyes returned to the headmaster, and after a swallow to moisten her suddenly dry throat, she intoned the words of the oath back at Dumbledore. She felt the magic settle around their clasped hands, and the weight of the oath take hold on her magic. It was a horrible experience, which explained why wizards were so reluctant to swear binding vows on their magic. Quite aside from the danger of loosing it, if things went wrong.

"So," she asked with a flippant note in her voice and a lift of her chin to hide the distress she still felt. "Who _is_ this mysterious person who's such a big deal?"

The headmaster looked at Remus. "If you would be so kind as to fetch them, dear boy?" he asked quietly.

She watched the younger wizard assent with a nod and move over to the door, sticking his head out and calling for Severus. Dumbledore cleared his throat, which brought her attention back to the older wizard.

"You see, dear Dora, we made a ... stunning ... discovery recently," the headmaster said, looking at her intently. "And I assure you, this is neither a prank nor a joke."

"Why would I think that," she began, but right then the door opened wide to admit Snape into the library, who immediately fixed her with a disapproving glare. She was about to give him a challenging one back, when another person entered the room. And that's when everything went strange. Because this slight young man, whose very posture screamed of nervousness and uncertainty, looked just like …

"This, dear Dora, is someone you know," Dumbledore informed her calmly.

"He looks like … Bellatrix," she croaked. The youngster stared back at her with an unhappy expression. There was something about those expressive dark eyes, though …

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, he does. However, this is, in fact, none other than _Harry Potter_."

"But ..." she felt shocked through and through. "What have you done with him? And why? Why does he look like _her_?" she snarled the last word.

The youngster flinched at her words, and took an involuntary step backwards. Snape put out an arm to stop him from retreating further, and the two dark-eyed men exchanged an indecipherable look.

The headmaster sighed again. "Unfortunately, _we_ haven't done anything. This is his real appearance now ... after the enchantments presumably placed on him by Lily Potter broke. As it turns out, he never was a Potter in the first place. He really is your cousin, Dora. Bellatrix _is_ his mother."

She sank back down on her chair, feeling faint. Okay, so not a joke. Serious secret, right. That about summed it up.

"So you really are … Harry?" she asked, with heavy disbelief in her voice.

The youngster stirred and moved forward, stopping short of the table to clasp his fingers around the backrest of a chair. Snape came up behind him, standing over the boy with a watchful air, but fixing his dark brooding gaze on her. The boy lifted his eyes after a moment to look at her, too. She almost gasped, because those two sets of eyes were amazingly similar.

"Yes. I was, at least," the youngster admitted.

"And now?"

"Apparently someone named me Corvus," he replied, his eyes flicking momentarily to the dark man hovering behind him.

Okay, there was definitely some story there. And those eyes …

"Corvus Lestrange?"

His lips twitched at that. "Nah," he replied with almost a smirk. "At least I was spared _that_ fate. According to that thing," he pointed at the Black tapestry hanging between the two windows. "My name is Corvus Black."

"Right," she said, though there was little that was _right_ about the situation.

"So if you're not a Lestrange … whose son are you?"

Eyes met around the table. Snape appeared unhappy. Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow and gave the potions master a _look_.

"Oh, all right," Snape conceded testily and took a seat, folding his arms primly and fixing her with a penetrating stare. Dumbledore resumed his chair, and Remus and … Harry … settled on the remaining two.

"First of all you must understand most of this is conjecture. There was a fair amount of … obliviating involved," Snape cautioned her. "Which explains why Bellatrix herself is apparently quite unaware of having a son. And why in fact until Corvus' birthday," his eyes went to the young wizard. "When the glamours broke and his name showed up on the tapestry, no-one had any idea of this."

"_You're_ his father, aren't you?"

There was a pause.

"Ten points for perceptiveness," Snape said with a sigh.

"It was the eyes, wasn't it?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Yes," she admitted. "If you really want to keep this a secret, avoid standing close to each other," she advised them, looking from one to the other. "And don't glare at someone at the same time, either."

Harry … Corvus? rolled his eyes at her.

"You do not seem upset by the idea, however, Miss Tonks," Snape commented, giving her a speculative look.

She shrugged. "Well, frankly, all of this is … too much to process. I'll probably have myself a nice mental breakdown later. But I'd rather have you as his father, Professor, than someone like Lestrange," she pointed out with a wry smile. "At least _you_ are on our side. I'm still very curious as to how this came about, though," she added.

"To put it in a nutshell, I had an … affair with your aunt at some point. And since I certainly was not the only one at the time," Snape cast a look at the young wizard sitting next to him, who was grimacing in disgust. "I guess we should be glad it turned out to be me."

"We honestly do not fully know what happened, though. Presumably I took the child from Bellatrix after his birth, and brought him to the Potters. Lily Potter was my best friend for many years," Snape explained, his expression turning pained. "Our friendship did not survive, sadly. But obviously she took my son in, and hid his identity. Given that I have discovered several gaps in my memory, now that I know to look for them, she then obliviated all my knowledge of him," he concluded with a shrug.

"After all this came to light on his birthday, young Corvus here," Dumbledore took over the explanation, smiling fondly at the young man. "Decided to take up his … new, or at least newly discovered, identity rather than remain as Harry Potter. Which is where you come in, dear Dora."

"You want me to impersonate Harry Potter?"

"Indeed, at least long enough that people will not question the timing of Harry Potter's disappearance, and Corvus Black's appearance."

She gave them all a long, considering look. Followed by wicked grin.

"All right, this should be fun. So what's the plan exactly?"

.

oOoOoOoOo

"I want to know how you feel about this? Are you all right? I mean, this was quite the shock even to me, and I'm not to one who has to be you. Ehm, you know what I mean," she finished lamely.

"Yeah, well, you said it yourself, it was a big shock," he admitted, running a hand through those startling dark curls, his equally dark eyes distant and contemplative. "But … it's not been too bad otherwise, really."

"Really?" she asked disbelievingly. "I mean, I can't imagine how I'd feel about having her as my mother suddenly."

She shuddered at the thought. "It's bad enough knowing she is my aunt."

"Yeah. I think it's got something to do with being a Black, actually. It's rather strange, but it seems as if something about the house itself is kind of … welcoming me. Making me feel better," the youngster said, gesturing at the brooding building. "This never felt like a home to me. Now it suddenly does. And I love this garden," he added, looking about in obvious pleasure.

"But well," he shrugged and made a face. "Mostly I simply try not to think about her. What with all the planning for this, and Remus and … my father teaching me stuff, I just do my best to keep busy. And I've come to realise it doesn't change who I am," he concluded with a wry smile. "No matter what my name is, or who my parents are, I'll always be … me."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Rather mature of you, that. How do you get along with the Professor, though? You used to be so much at odds with him, and he must be just as shocked, no?"

"Hmm, he was, yes. And yeah, we never got along. But we are … all right now," Harry said guardedly.

Harry. Corvus. She'd have to get used to the new name. Best to think of this as an undercover Auror mission. They'd given her plenty of training for those, after all, what with her being the only Metamorphmagus on the force. And remember to think of the youngster not as a child to protect, but as her mission partner, who had his own role to play.

"We've talked a fair bit, and well, he's changed how he treats me. It's actually quite easy to get along with him … now," the dark-eyed young wizard next to her admitted with a faint smile. It was so strange to see him with those dark eyes. And that face, of course.

"Yeah, I noticed that. It was actually the other thing to make me realise he was your father. I've seen the two of you interact before, after all. But when you came in with him earlier he was so … protective of you. And you so accepting of it," she added with a penetrating look.

"I guess I am. Everything has really changed. It's totally weird at times. But … I do like it, strange as it is," Harry … Corvus said quietly, again with that faint smile. Which developed into a smirk when he continued.

"Just don't expect him to treat you nicely when you pretend to be Harry Potter."

"Hmm, I guess in return I get to act as if I hate him, too?"

"Oh, yes. Have fun with that."

"Did you really hate him, though?"

"Mostly I hated how he treated me, I think. Now he's changed that … I kind of find him quite good company."

"Yeah, I think I could see that."

"Really?"

"You seemed almost at ease in each other's presence. And what stiffness remained was mostly that of two people who are a bit insecure about each other, and trying not to set the other off. There was none of the constant hostility you two used to give off."

"Good," Corvus said, and this time the faint smile was rather happy.

She smiled back.

"Right. I guess we should start on what we're actually here for, though. Would you please move around for me? The way you will be as Corvus Black?"

She observed him critically as he walked about the garden, sat down, got up again, leaned against a wall, bent to sniff at some roses, and simply stood about looking at her thoughtfully.

"I don't remember you ever being so … stiff as Harry," she remarked after a while.

Corvus groaned and made a disgusted face.

"That's because no-one ever made Harry Potter run around in a bloody sodding _corset_!" he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

She couldn't help herself, she gaped at him.

"What?"

"A corset. My _dear_ father bloody well makes me wear a corset," he lamented, with a greatly put upon expression. Which turned into a glare that would have made Snape proud when she started laughing at him. Which of course only made her laugh harder.

"You should see your face," she gasped out finally. "And the way you glare … Merlin! Just like him."

"Yeah, yeah, I can imagine," he said, suddenly smirking at her. "The thing isn't so bad, really, and it seems to be doing its job. And of course soon _you'll_ get to wear it, too," he added with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

That stopped her laughter, all right. She had to wonder though. This young man was still the Harry she'd known and observed plenty while on guard duty. And at the same time … he was not. It didn't feel quite like _change_ though. It was more as if he was letting her see some other side of him. And those smirks and glares … the relationship between him and Snape was rather obvious when you knew it was there.

"You know, if you don't want people to realise you are related to Snape you will have to watch yourself," she cautioned him.

"Are we that similar?"

"Some of your expressions are, yes. You should practise being more … blank. And whatever you do, try not to glare at people. That's by far the worst give away."

He sighed. "I'll try. Maybe I should copy Dumbledore's twinkle instead."

"Hmm. Actually what you should aim for is … a laid back air. Relaxed. Casual. Indifferent. Your father is always so … intense. And it would make for an interesting contrast to a stiff body language," she added, contemplating him thoughtfully. "It would make it harder for people to tell what you are really like."

"Well, the others thought I should behave distant, distrustful, and rather stiff. So which is it?"

"Hmm. Well, distant and withdrawn works too, I'd say. You just have to watch the intense looks, I think. And you can pretend to be indifferent and disinterested in other people and their opinions. And kind of amused and disdainful at their antics, if you know what I mean. Maybe even a bit mocking."

He made a face. "I guess I really, really need to learn how to control my emotions then," he said with a sigh.

"Yeah. It will also make you different from Harry Potter, who is well-known for being rather … explosive," she told him with a wink.

"I am, aren't I? Or was, maybe? This is all … difficult. Strange. Confusing," he complained, looking distressed for the first time since they'd started talking.

She couldn't help herself, she had to give him a hug. He remained stiff for a bit, before relaxing with a sigh and returning her hug. She patted his back and squeezed him harder for a moment.

"You can do this," she told his dark curls. "I think you're a better actor than most people realise. Don't forget I got to watch you a fair bit while keeping guard at the Dursleys. I saw how you behaved 'round them, and it was nothing like you were when you were here. Or now. And I never saw you blow up at them, so I'm pretty sure you _can_ control your emotions."

"Hmm," he agreed vaguely. "But that was mostly because if I didn't, they'd punish me for it."

"But if you fail now, you put yourself and your father in danger," she pointed out. "Isn't that motivation enough?"

"Of course. But it's not just that. Behaving like I did 'round the Dursleys was simply … what I was used to from little. I'd automatically slip into it when I was in their home. I didn't have to do anything consciously."

"So maybe you need a trigger for your new Corvus Black behaviour?" she mused. "I mean, you already wear that corset for the physical posture. So you could also try tying your emotions and behaviour to it," she suggested after a thoughtful pause.

His expression turned considering. He. Corvus. She needed to remember that, and start _thinking_ it, too. He wasn't the only one who needed a trigger. So … dark curls and dark eyes should make her think Corvus _Black_. Who was her cousin. Family. She smiled to herself, and released one side of him to lift a hand and twirl some of these dark curls around her finger. She wondered if he realised how handsome he looked now, especially dressed up like he was.

"Yeah, that could work," Corvus agreed finally. "So I need to work wearing the corset into triggering Corvus' behaviour. And with time I should turn into him, anyway."

"Well, you are him, you know."

He made a face. "Yes and no. I'm not his behaviour, though. Yet. That's something I'll have to train myself into. You know, so it's automatic. And that will take time."

"Hmm," she agreed, twirling the curls some more, and giving him another squeeze before finally releasing him. "But we are agreed on the distant, indifferent and mildly amused? Because I'll have to pretend to be Corvus soonish, and I wouldn't want to mess it up for you."

"Don't forget the distrustful," he reminded her, giving her a wry smile and patting down his disturbed hair. "But yeah, that should work. Also don't forget to talk slowly, like you are unused to speaking English, and a bit formal. And you'll have to be prepared to be met with a lot of bad reactions and prejudice."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, when they learned of Corvus' existence, the Weasley's reaction was not exactly … welcoming. Imagine how they'd feel about a prospective baby Death Eater, and you know what to expect."

"Oh dear."

"Indeed. So distant and distrustful should be okay, but please play up the 'I totally don't like dark lords and their ideas and methods' for all your worth with them."

"You know, this job looks more and more interesting," she said with an irreverent grin, tapping his nose with a finger. "So many opportunities to mess with people's brains."

"Dora ..." he complained with a whine.

"What, I can't poke fun at my own cousin," she asked, which earned her a hesitant smile. "Don't worry. I'll do my best. I'm a professional, after all."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You know, the vow you had me swear was rather unnecessary," she commented, idly swinging her leg.

"You think so?"

"He is my cousin. He is _family_," she explained. "And unlike Bellatrix and Narcissa and Draco," she let the distaste she felt for those three creep into her voice. "Harry is actually someone I like. A lot. Someone I feel proud of having as family. And I certainly don't blame him for his mother."

She gave the headmaster a defiant stare. And received a fond smile back.

"I am glad to hear you say that, dear Dora. But we could not know you would feel this way, and the vow was not just because we didn't trust you. You know how it works … it makes it almost impossible for you to say anything wrong by accident, because your magic tries to protect itself."

"True enough," she admitted.

"And of course it protects you from questioning under Veritaserum, too, or other vows that contradict this one."

"All right, I'll agree that the oath was necessary," she said with an annoyed huff.

"However … there remains a way for someone to gain knowledge from you against your will. Directly from your mind. So to further protect you, and our secret ..." he continued, and gave her a speculative look.

"Yes?"

"You should have learned the basics of Occlumency during Auror training, no?"

"Oh, yes. But it's mostly just basic stuff they teach you, unless you either have a talent for it, or you need to protect ministry secrets."

"Which is why I think I should offer you further training, if you would like? It would be to all our benefit if you could really master it," Dumbledore said calmly, though his eyes were calculating. It made her shiver a little. "You will be posing as Harry, after all, and he has always been in danger of abduction and foul play."

"Who would teach me?"

"Either me or Severus, whoever you prefer."

"I'll take you then," she told him after considering the question for a moment. "I do respect Professor Snape, but I don't think I would feel comfortable around him, even if he is Harry's father."

"Certainly, dear Dora. And please call me Albus, at least when you are not pretending to be Harry," he said, and the twinkle was back in his eyes.

"All right," she agreed with a ready smile.

"Remus is the one who will organise meetings and lessons for all of us, so make sure to call on him regularly," he added, and the twinkle grew much more pronounced at seeing her blush.

Damn blushes. Remember you are a professional, Tonks.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sorry for the longish delay in updates, but I'd run out of finished material, and was also not quite satisfied with the way the story was progressing. And the creative impulses just didn't want to flow properly, either. I'll try to do better again, but updates will definitely be slower on this story, especially since my other story seems to garner more interest. Thanks for the reviews, and I certainly appreciate input. And encouragement, but who doesn't. ;)

oOoOoOoOo


	13. Toujours pur

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Good day, Phineas Nigellus Black," Severus drawled, sitting down casually in a chair facing the portrait and looking at the former headmaster with apparent insolence.

"Severus Snape," Phineas returned his greeting coldly.

"We missed you at Grimmauld Place yesterday," Severus added silkily. "When we took down all the other portraits to lock them up."

"You wouldn't dare," the old wizard hissed at him.

"Oh, I would have," Severus countered calmly. "But I had a better idea."

He gave the portrait a speculative look.

"You must be quite curious by now about what is going on," he said almost gently.

"Too damn right! After you, the head of house Slytherin, came to call Dumbledore over to my own ancestral home for something you deemed to be of utmost urgency ..."

"And so it was. What a pity your frame there hangs upstairs on a floor where you get to see or hear little of what goes on ..." Severus commented idly, holding up a hand and inspecting his fingernails as if he did not have a care in the world.

"Do not taunt me, Severus Snape!"

"But you make it so easy to bait you," the dark-eyed wizard replied smoothly. "One could almost believe you to be a Gryffindor."

Phineas gave him a hard glare and lifted his head proudly. "And you know that is not true in the slightest."

"Fortunately," Severus admitted with a faint smile. "Lions can be so tedious to deal with. I take it you have been lurking over here to try to get Albus to tell you what is going on?"

"He will not tell," Phineas huffed in annoyance. "Damn the man and his twinkling eyes!"

"Hmm," Severus agreed. "So would you like me to tell you?"

"What is your price?"

"Ah, it is always a delight to converse with a fellow Slytherin," Severus smirked. "They appreciate the price and value of information."

"I repeat, what is it that you want?"

"Your silence. And your assistance."

"With an undisclosed matter? No Slytherin would ever agree to that."

"You would be helping a member of your own family."

"There is nothing left of my family that is worth my help, Severus Snape," Phineas snarled at him, sounding quite bitter.

"Maybe more than you know. Did you really fail to notice the change in the magic?"

He watched in satisfaction as the eyes of the former headmaster grew wide.

"So, are you tempted?"

Phineas growled something at him under his breath.

"Well, if you are, then come meet me in your _other_ frame," Severus told him pointedly. "But make up your mind fast, else you will find yourself locked up with the rest."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You came then," Severus said quietly, his expression a study in blankness.

"How could I not?" Phineas snapped, clearly agitated. "How I did not notice this before ..."

"You stayed in the headmaster's office all the while?"

"I had little hope of learning anything of interest up here, did I now? And no reason whatsoever to think of unexpected … additions to the family, either."

"True," Severus conceded, studying the portrait intently.

"Where did he suddenly come from? And where is he?"

Phineas Black displayed almost pathetic eagerness, especially for a Slytherin. Severus raised an eyebrow at the man in the portrait.

"Well ..." he drawled, feigning reluctance. "I would gladly tell you ..."

"But?"

"If you were to swear me an oath first," Severus finished with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming in satisfaction. "The price for the answers you seek … _and_ meeting your descendant, is to swear on your further painted existence not to divulge his secrets."

"Why is it _you_ who asks this of me, Severus Snape? Why not the headmaster?" Phineas suddenly demanded.

"I happen to have a vested interest in the young man," Severus admitted, smirking at the obvious diversion tactic.

He leaned casually against the wall opposite the portrait. His son was waiting down the hallway, out of sight, but not out of hearing. His son. Who was changing almost before Severus' eyes, settling into a new persona with far greater ease than he would have thought possible. Yesterday's session with the indomitable Miss Tonks, irritating as the young woman was, seemed to have helped the boy a great deal. Severus had to admit Albus had been right to bring her in. Aside from the obvious need to have someone who could impersonate Harry Potter.

He had watched them earlier this morning as they continued to work out the best way for Corvus Black to behave in different situations. A fair bit of what they came up with had surprised him, though it should not have. Not really. Not when the boy had told him quite clearly several times that he had never cared for being Harry Potter. So he should have anticipated that his son would try to change many of the patterns people associated with the boy-who-lived. But just as … Corvus still expected his father to fall back into his old ways, so Severus tended to look for Harry Potter in his son.

It was mildly irritating to be constantly proven wrong by the boy.

On the other hand, he really could not complain about getting pleasantly surprised. That was much better than the opposite, after all. He simply did not like surprises, even when they were his own fault for still harbouring false expectations.

"Oh?"

"Can you guess?"

The portrait of the former headmaster gave the current head of Slytherin a measuring gaze. Severus smiled back blandly.

"You are his father?"

"Very good, Phineas Black. And you did not even see us together."

"He looks like you then?"

"Actually he greatly favours his mother, which the boy is not too happy about, so be warned. He did inherit my eyes though."

"Where is he?"

"Waiting."

"I want to see him!"

"And I want an oath from you that you will not betray his secrets and not cause him any harm, at the very least. Else you will not meet him, and you can join the other paintings in their exile."

Phineas Nigellus glowered at him and muttered darkly, before giving a grudging nod.

"Very well. But if you want my actual help … the boy will have to be worthy of it!"

Severus nodded slowly in acceptance. "That is agreeable. Your oath, and you may see him to judge for yourself."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry … Corvus could tell from the conversation, which was now firmly on wrangling the exact wording of Phineas Black's oath, that he would soon be called. And he was … unexpectedly nervous about it. Really nervous. So what if it was just talking to a damn portrait. It was Phineas Nigellus, whom he'd met before, and who had a sharp tongue, and was as sharp as a needle. From what Snape had said, he could also be very helpful in learning more about the Black family, as he was an old and possibly … less corrupted source. The man had been a headmaster of Hogwarts, after all. He was also … Corvus' great-something-grandfather.

So getting him on their side was kind of important. But Phineas was a Slytherin, one of the old guard, who took it serious in entirely different ways. He was proud as anything. And sharp and observant, obviously. And actually family, now. Or rather, he'd always been, only ... Corvus knew it now. No, he was definitely more than simply nervous. He was quite anxious. Because something in his stomach told Corvus this was going to be very important. So making a good first impression was essential. And he needed to impress a _Slytherin_ headmaster. Joy.

But being a bundle of nerves would not help. He needed to become calm, and composed, and he needed to do this now, because his father had just called for him.

He closed his eyes for a moment. He was Corvus Black. He was a proud young man, and not afraid of meeting his forbear. He drew a few deep, deliberate breaths, and thought _clouds_. Calm clouds to keep him company as he walked towards where his father was waiting. Calm, composed and sure of himself. He stopped next to Snape, meeting his father's dark eyes for a moment, before turning his attention to the portrait.

Phineas Nigellus Black was looking at him intently. … Corvus cleared his throat, and inclined his head respectfully.

"Greetings, sir."

"Greetings indeed, Lord Black."

"Not quite yet, I believe, sir."

"But only a matter of formality, I am sure," Phineas said, continuing his careful study of his descendant. Harry had no idea what the man in the portrait was looking for, but whatever it was, he seemed to find it. "Yes, indeed."

"Do I pass muster, sir?"

"You certainly show … promise, young man," the old wizard conceded.

"Would you … would you be willing to help us then, sir?"

Phineas looked pensive for long moments, obviously considering.

"Yes, I believe I would. Not unconditionally, mind. But I am open to reasonable requests."

He looked at his father. They had not actually discussed exactly what help they would ask of the old headmaster. He only knew Snape thought Phineas could be useful, and therefore he'd been told to try to make a good impression on him.

"To begin with, we would like to move your frame downstairs next to Walburga Black," Snape started, but he was interrupted by Phineas.

"I cannot stand that odious woman! And her voice! She screeches worse than a common fishwife, for Morgana's sake. I refuse. I utterly refuse!"

"But that is exactly why we need you next to her. So she cannot … screech any longer. She is, frankly, a disruptive presence in this house, and while she has apparently warmed up to Corvus, she still screams at everyone else. I know you could keep her contained, if you wanted to. You are her ancestor, after all."

"Please, won't you do this for us," Corvus put his own plea in. "Down there you could keep an eye on everything. That would be really helpful," he added with a sideways look at his father. Who picked up the thread smoothly.

"Indeed. And of course you would be able to satisfy your own curiosity as well," Snape pointed out mildly.

Phineas looked between father and son before he finally sighed in capitulation. "You two make quite a pair, I must admit. Very well, I shall endure her presence, at least for a while."

"It would only be for the rest of the summer. Come September, Corvus will go to Hogwarts and … it would be good, if you could accompany him there. He will have his own room ..."

"You are sure he will go to Slytherin then?"

"We are … quite confident it will happen, yes," Snape said, giving his son an unreadable look. "But Corvus is largely ignorant of the machinations there. So having you with him, to explain and assist … would be invaluable."

Phineas nodded thoughtfully, resting his chin on his folded hands. "I would be willing to do that for the future Lord Black, who clearly still is in need of some education."

"There is more to it than just that. You know what Slytherin has turned into over the last decades. It is now a breeding ground for followers of that upstart last descendant of Slytherin himself, who has come to befoul the reputation of our house. My son is part of a dangerous game, where the ultimate goal is to overthrow the Dark Lord."

"You do oppose him then? Even though you are one of his marked, Severus Snape?" the old wizard asked with evident interest, leaning forward intently.

"You should know that already, Phineas Black. But I do. To my last breath," Snape said stridently, never breaking his eye-contact with the portrait.

"Why?"

"What he does is simply wrong. And … " Snape broke off, looking helplessly at Corvus. "I would do anything to protect my son, who is a target for him."

He had known it, in a way. Yet hearing his father say it out loud, was a bit overwhelming. Disconcerting. And also … nice, that someone was willing to protect him at all costs. But he had no time to think about it, because Phineas Black turned his attention from father to son.

"What about you, young man?"

"I will have no rest in this world until one of us lies dead," he said, the line from the prophecy echoing through his mind. For neither can live while the other survives ...

"That sounds … evasive," Phineas criticized.

"I will oppose him in any way I can," Corvus tried to clarify his own words.

"What if he uses one of your parents to coerce you?"

"My mother, aside from giving me life, only ever gave me pain otherwise. I wouldn't lift a finger for her sake, even though she is my link to this family," he said slowly. "But if it was to safe the life of my … my father … I … I do not know," he admitted, painfully aware of Snape's eyes on him.

"You _are_ each other's weakness," Phineas stated, his eyes hard. "You need to be aware of this weakness, and hide it from the world. _He_ would use it mercilessly, since for him familial love _is_ nothing but a weakness. He cannot comprehend that it also provides a great source of strength."

"And yet, it pleases me that you would care for each other. For you, Severus Snape, are now part of this family as well, through gifting us a new scion. One who is worthy, methinks. One who could lead this House back to its former glory, where Darkness was but one of many roads we were not afraid to traverse for a worthwhile goal, and not the goal in itself."

"Yes," Phineas added with a triumphant note in his voice at seeing their startled reactions.

"Once, 'toujours pur' meant something different from an obsession with blood purity. It meant to stay pure of heart and magic no matter what Darkness had to be overcome. Purity is something quite different from innocence. The later is a lack of experience. One cannot be pure and ignorant at the same time. It requires knowledge and awareness. No-one starts out pure … it is an acquired state, through a process of purification. You can only reach it if you have walked through the Darkness … and left it behind."

Phineas' eyes held a self-satisfied gleam at the dumbfounded looks the two before him shared.

"I can see that in both of you. You have tangled with the Dark, and yet emerged from its grasp. But you will have to walk through Darkness again, to fight the upstart."

"So … you will help us?" Snape asked, breaking the stunned silence which had filled the dusty hallway after Phineas' ringing declaration.

"I will. I do find both of you worthy of my help," the old wizard admitted more quietly.

"I know you are not of pure magical blood, Severus Snape. However, you are a Slytherin to the core. Even though you possess a sense of loyalty which would shame many a Hufflepuff, bravery that a Gryffindor could envy, and intelligence enough to give most Ravens a run for their money. But most of all, you know all about walking through the Dark. About its danger … and its attraction. About not giving in … nor giving up."

Snape stared back at Phineas, blinking at the unexpected compliment the proud former headmaster had paid him.

"How can you tell all that?"

"Why, I had occasion to observe you for many years, have I not? All in all, I find these excellent qualities to have for the father and guardian of a new Lord Black. Far more important than being able to count only magic-bearing folks as your forebears trough multiple generations. You see, while this family became regarded as Dark … it was not always so. And I would see that changed again. Because once the magic we embraced was not considered Dark but simply … ancient."

"Old magic," Snape whispered, sounding fascinated.

"Yes. The magic of blood and ritual, of sacrifices and ordeals. Magic which strives to work in balance with the circle of life, which encompasses every aspect. Where there is birth, there must be death. And new growth is often found out of the decay of the old. But the Old magic is oft-times dangerous, and thus needs to be approached with caution and care. It does not come easy, nor without a price."

Corvus had to admit this approach to magic sounded interesting. It certainly appealed to the gardener in him. And the little garden just outside was the perfect example for what happened if something was allowed to grow wild, and without care.

"When weaker men came to rule house Black, they disregarded the power of purity achieved through ordeal and self-sacrifice," Phineas Black continued. "They exchanged it for something which can be achieved simply by marrying other weak fools, no matter how pure of blood they may think themselves. Yet this decline took place all over our society. And the feeble and foolish dabbled in Dark and forbidden things, looking for instant gratification and power, instead of preserving and revering the Old magics. Thus the magic was also tainted, at least in repute."

"And so House Black became considered a Dark family, too. Because of its own weakness, and shifting definitions."

As Phineas moved his gaze to him, Corvus found himself fidgeting under the intense regard of his ancestor.

"As for you, young Lord Black … I sense you have great potential. I do not know your personal history, but both magic and my own instincts tell me you have tangled plenty with dark intents, though not of your choosing. Yet your magic feels pure to me, despite the Darkness dancing at its edges," the old wizard said with conviction.

"And as long as it remains so, I shall do my utmost to help you so it may stay that way. My guidance and my teaching shall be yours. So that the family may once again be … toujours pur."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus permitted himself a satisfied smile as he followed his son to the sitting room, leaving behind them a battle of wills between two most stubborn Black portraits. No doubt Phineas would win. However, Severus rather suspected the former headmaster actually enjoyed his screaming match with Walburga. And Phineas had the ultimate in arguments to end the confrontation whenever he wanted, that Corvus wished for her cooperation. Between her promise to the boy and Phineas' seniority in the family, Walburga would be forced to submit.

The whole encounter had gone a lot better than he had hoped for originally. For Phineas Black to not only offer assistance, but actual teaching … was a remarkable result. As for his surprising revelation about the original meaning of the family motto of the Black's … that was almost staggering.

Though it certainly explained why the Black family had once been so important and well-considered. Deeply entrenched in the Old magics, not afraid of the Dark, but willing to fight for what was right, and all that combined with a very Slytherin approach to life … they had likely been among the leaders of the neutral faction. And it very much appealed to him, on a personal level.

What a shame the family appeared to have fallen into decay since then. Before, House Black must have been a bastion of neutrality, a force for the delicate balance between Light and Dark. A balance only truly understood if you knew both sides. It needed strength of character to stand on the border, where the Light cast the strongest shadows.

But when the family turned to blood-purity instead of purity of magic, it had obviously started a vicious circle of decline. Once they started looking for brides who were simply pure of blood, instead of strong of character and magic. Because all those 'pure' brides brought was the weakness of inbreeding. From that viewpoint it was less surprising Phineas considered a half-blood like Severus to be someone worthy to contribute to the Black family.

It also cast Sirius Black in a somewhat new light. The man had obviously struggled against the Darkness his family had fallen into. Though maybe it had just been teenager rebellion, after all. He certainly had not grasped that to restore the family, he needed to stand on the divide. The idiot had tried to embrace the Light instead, which had only served to estrange him from his family and weakened his position with them. If the man had aimed for balance instead, he might have succeeded … but his mindset had been much too Gryffindor for that. Too brash and prejudiced. Balance needed cunning. Or at least thought and consideration, and knowledge of the self. You could not rush in bravely, or cling to blind loyalties.

No. The neutral faction was mostly Slytherin and Ravenclaw in nature.

Severus was starting to think beyond simply getting rid of the Dark Lord. Because surprisingly, amazingly, he now had something to live for. Someone who ought to have a future. A better future. He found himself wanting a future together with his son. A future which might one day even contain grandchildren. The boy truly was an unexpected gift.

He had no intention of throwing it away.

Defeating … Riddle would not automatically cure whatever ailed Wizarding society. Their society had deep rifts running through it. If the Light won … then the Dark side would still continue to fight. Eventually there would be another Dark Lord, weaker maybe, but the struggle would continue. The Light would not submit to the Dark, and the Dark did not want to be constrained by the Light. Especially if the Light favoured the muggle-born. But to end that strife they needed the neutral faction to act as an arbitrator.

The true neutral faction. Those that were neutral, not because they could not decide, or were too cowardly to commit themselves, but because they embraced _balance_. And after a lifetime of dabbling in Dark magic and consorting with Darkness, while trying to overthrow that very Darkness, Severus badly wanted balance. A place where both sides could live, without constantly being at war with each other. He wanted to bring back the Old magic, and free it from the taint of being considered Dark. And he also wanted to be freed from the absurd constraints of blood-purity and its supposed superiority.

Which meant coaxing those neutrals out of whatever refuges they had retreated into, unwilling to cast their lot with either side.

A Lord Black who was neutral, but had helped bring about the downfall of an insane and unbalanced Dark Lord … might be just the figurehead the neutral faction would be willing to follow. Especially if he embodied the old purity of balance, and was educated in Old magic.

Yes, he would certainly allow Phineas to teach his son. And he would make sure Corvus approached certain students at Hogwarts.

They had intended for the boy to play the neutral in any case. This was merely taking it … a step further.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"All right, now that Phineas Black is sorted, and before we start with today's Occlumency session, there are some plans I need to tell you about, Corvus."

"Yes ..."

His father raised an eyebrow when … Corvus fell silent after clearly struggling with something he wanted to say.

"Sorry, I still don't know what to call you," he explained, feeling inexplicably frustrated by the fact.

Snape gave him an amused smirk, and just shook his head at him. In reply Corvus rolled his eyes and twitched his shoulders. The man actually chuckled at that, which made Corvus shoot his father an irritated glare.

"I told you not to worry about it," the older wizard said calmly, putting his hand on his son's shoulder for a moment. "And do not glare," he admonished. "It really is a lot like looking into a mirror when you do that."

Snape moved further into the room and settled down gracefully on the couch, straightening his robes. Corvus followed his father and sat down beside him when the older man patted the space next to him in invitation.

"Now where was I? Ah, yes, about to inform you of our trip on Wednesday."

"Trip?"

"To Spain," Snape told him. "Remus has some old friends in the country, fortunately. He is contacting them now to see if they will agree to have 'known you all your life'."

"Wow, really?" … Corvus asked, feeling excited and a bit incredulous. "I've never been outside of Britain before."

"Yes, really," Snape rolled his eyes, but there was a touch of indulgence in his voice and a tiny smile on his lips. "The details depend on who the wolf can convince to help us. In any case we will take you around to give you enough actual memories and exposure to the country to build your supposed past life on."

"How long will we be there?"

"For about a week. Though I fear it will not be much of a holiday for you … you need to keep up your studies."

"Still, I will get to see places?"

"And meet people, yes," Snape allowed, and actually smiled lightly at seeing his son's face light up with enthusiasm.

"Brilliant!"

"It should hopefully also help you settle further into Corvus Black, if you get to experience the country and culture you supposedly grew up in. And hear the language spoken by native speakers, as well."

His father gave him a searching look, and he nodded to show his acceptance and understanding.

"Remus will then 'bring you back' with him officially, which means we can go forward with the plans for Gringotts and introducing Corvus to your friends."

Harry lowered his eyes and studied his hands. Which had clenched involuntarily. He felt his father's hand under his chin tilt his head back up and met the black-eyed gaze unhappily.

"You know this has to happen, don't you?"

"Yes," he said faintly. "I just don't really look forward to it."

"You will have over a week to prepare yourself for it," Snape pointed out, holding his gaze squarely. Harry looked back at him uneasily.

"I know ..."

"Why does it disturb you so much?"

He shrugged, and looked away. "I'm not quite sure. I'll have to think about it, I guess."

He heard his father sigh in discontent, but the hand let got of his chin and came to rest on his knee instead. It was oddly comforting.

"All right. I will not push you."

"Thank you," he whispered awkwardly.

"Anyway, after we come back you should spend a few days doing revisions of last year. A few days before the start of term your prospective teachers for next year will meet with you to do an evaluation … "

"Potions, too?"

"You will be taking potions, and you will simply have to try to keep up for the time being as best you can. I do expect you to come up to standard … eventually. But at the moment, there are more important things for you to learn."

"Occlumency and Defence?"

"As well as more Spanish. Hopefully we can finish most of that off before the start of term."

"Some holiday this is going to be," Harry complained. "Work, work and more work."

"I know," Snape said, actually sounding sympathetic. "But then it is not every year your life gets turned upside down."

"Fortunately."

"Unlike school, at least this is all one-on-one tuition, and we will try to make it as interesting as possible."

He nodded. "I must admit Remus' lessons are downright brilliant. Maybe revisions that way won't be so bad, either."

"There you go, then. Unfortunately, there is no way to make Occlumency more interesting … or less painful until you become proficient enough."

Harry gave his father an unhappy look.

"However, the more you practice, the faster you will get there," Snape said, taking out his wand and turning it on his son. "Time to think about clouds, Corvus."

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I swear it was Phineas himself who put this interesting interpretation of 'toujours pur' into my head. After all, nothing about the phrase says it has to be about _blood_ purity originally, that's just what it came to mean. Plus concepts of purity and tainted magic will fit in nicely with Corvus' troubled feelings about his parentage and Darkness. And then Severus got those thoughts about a neutral/balance faction and how they would be needed after Voldemort was down to keep the cycle from continuing … really, what would I do without my characters?

Thanks for all the lovely reviews, you made my day! I still strive to update more often, but the last couple of months my drive to write was just a bit lacking, and my reading addiction resurfaced as well.

As for the various questions: Dora will have to impersonate both, but mostly Harry, especially once they go to Hogwarts. However, since she already knows Harry relatively well they focus on Corvus first, which also helps him to figure out what Corvus' behaviour should be like. I just couldn't resist including a blushing, flirty Dora, plus she fits really well into the story for several reasons. As for the level of details … well, I have a separate file titled: 'planned happenings and time-line'. I try really hard to reduce it in size, but somehow I keep finding new stuff that just has to happen. Oh and special thanks to Berlin for all the reviews, though the poem made me go: 'Was zum Geier?" … seriously … laughs.


	14. Loose Ends and New Ties

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

An hour later a headache was again plaguing him, and he was quite happy to accept another painkiller potion. It had only been their third Occlumency session, but he'd still been able to consistently remove his father from his mind. He could not yet keep Snape from seeing at least some memories, but he thought he was getting better at that, too. It also seemed as if the attacks were getting stronger, but of course he had no way of measuring them. Still, he felt things were progressing well, especially compared with last year.

"You should be pleased to hear," Snape said with one of those wry smiles that Harry … Corvus was starting to think of as trademark: 'Snape-who-is-my-father-smiles'. "That our apparently useless lessons of last year were not completely pointless after all."

Harry gave him a surprised look as he handed the empty vial back. "Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yes, _really_," his father replied with an exasperated note in his voice.

"That you can do it at all now, is due to that trigger of yours. But you are getting better quite rapidly, and the speed of your improvement is likely owed to the practise you had last year. Even though you were not successful then, it still developed your mental stamina and endurance."

That sounded good. Especially if it shortened the period of enduring bad headaches.

"I believe you are now also able to tell when someone enters you mind?"

"Well," Harry said, thinking hard. "I can tell if it's _you_. I have no idea if I would notice … You-know-who, but I had no problems with my scar in the last few days."

"And the headmaster?"

"Hmm. Either I can't feel him, or else he didn't try anything recently."

"Ask him to do so next time you see him."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, indeed, and further ask him to be at his sneakiest, too," Snape said with a smirk.

Two pairs of dark eyes met in shared understanding.

"I take it you would be pleased, if I could, then?"

"It would certainly be advantageous, if you had managed to come that far, yes."

"So you think this is working, this time around?"

"Very much so. At your current rate of progress, you may well be competent by the end of summer."

"That would be good," Harry … Corvus admitted.

"Indeed," his father agreed.

There was an awkward pause. And something indecipherable in Snape's eyes. It could have been regret. Or maybe shame. Harry suspected he knew the reason for it.

"Why didn't you teach me like this last year," he asked gently, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice. He knew he had not been entirely successful when his father's mouth twisted into a bitter smile, and the regret in the other man's eyes became pronounced.

"Last year …. was really the worst time to try to teach you Occlumency," Snape replied, and the bitterness and remorse weighted heavily in his voice. "I had to resume spying. And since the Dark Lord was very suspicious of my loyalty, he often went over my memories. Which forced me to show him, quite frequently, just how much I despised and detested you. And dredging up all those memories of our … less than satisfactory interactions, combined with my hatred for your … James Potter, further reinforced the resentment and disdain I felt towards you."

Harry considered this explanation. "It probably also didn't help that Dumbledore more or less forced you to teach me?" he offered.

"It certainly did not lessen the resentment. And bad feelings between teacher and student have no place in the study of Occlumency. It all created a kind of feedback loop."

"What do you mean?"

"I should have learned from your memories that you were not what I thought. But since I resented you, and did not want to believe differently, it instead reinforced my image of you as deceitful and untrustworthy. Which meant I believed you even less, and thought you even more worthless, and just not trying hard enough. And so I never considered that my method of teaching was inadequate instead."

"Oh. I did wonder why you never seemed to react to what you had seen. I mean, you must have noticed they didn't treat me well at all, yet you persisted in calling me spoiled ..."

"Actually I tried not to dwell on what I saw in your memories. Which is normally a measure of courtesy from the teacher towards the pupil, but in this case it simply added to my blindness."

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully. "But could you really have seen me differently … then?"

Snape sighed and looked away uncomfortably. "I honestly have no idea. When it happened … now … there was a great deal of … shock involved. Which usually makes it far easier to change false perceptions."

"Hmm," Harry agreed, giving his father a rueful smile. "I certainly can't argue with that."

"Another thing working against us was that you were often so … infuriating. Constantly risking yourself, and full of rebellion and disrespect. I was usually every bit as angry as you during those lessons. It made me want to lash out, and put the blame for everything on you."

"I guess I was … fairly impossible. But I didn't really understand why I had to learn Occlumency, much less from you. It just didn't seem to me as if you were actually trying to _teach_ me anything. And I absolutely hated how you never listened when I tried to tell you I simply had no idea how to do what you wanted."

"Yes. And I am sorry for that. I suppose the best we can do, is to simply label last year an unmitigated disaster and forget about it, aside from learning from it how _not_ to go about it," Snape concluded with a sigh. "But you realise that what we are doing now, could probably not have happened then?"

"You don't think so?"

"Would you have been able to give me the same level of cooperation?"

Harry lowered his eyes. "Most likely not."

"A lot of this is about _trust_. Do you believe last year you could have trusted me enough to let me put you into a trance? Because that is what I did. I hypnotized you," Snape admitted with a wry smile. "It was the only way to still your thoughts. I also intended for you to find a good image to use as a posthypnotic trigger. Something which would allow you to return to that stilled state on your own."

"That's all there is to it?"

"Well, no. It seems you can _imagine_ things quite strongly. Because of this, you are able to use the image not only as a mere trigger, but also as a direct defence or offence. From what I have observed, you can even use it to calm your emotions."

"Yes. I've always had a rather … active imagination," Harry said slowly, considering the matter. "It may be because of how I grew up. Most children have toys and books, and other people to play with. I had nothing but my own company. So I guess I started living in my own mind."

"Which makes the usual way of occluding difficult for you, as you are simply not used to focusing your thoughts. And by extension, to clearing them. Because the mind has a tendency to wander when it has no external stimulus. On the other hand, your mental pictures are much stronger and clearer than those of most people. You are rather good at _visualisation_. Which we should actually explore more. You might be able to improve in other areas of magic, if you take this into account properly."

"Yeah," Harry admitted thoughtfully. "It has always been easier for me to pick stuff up from visual demonstrations. And well, concentrating in class can be … really challenging, especially when there are distractions."

"So I have observed in potions," Snape said dryly, and actually rolled his eyes in exasperation. "But never mind that now … we really should talk about why you were left to yourself so very much," he continued, sounding a bit tentative.

"Does it matter? I'm not ever going back there, am I?"

"Certainly not. But they left this mark on you. Are there other ways in which their lack of care left you … damaged? Or simply … different? Is there anything that might cause you to falter in the future, because something was left to fester untended in your psyche? Corvus, you … are my responsibility. Yet I know I cannot shield you from everything. I realise you need to grow by yourself … but growth without guidance, especially when there has been damage done in the past ..." his father trailed off, looking at him helplessly.

"Yeah. Perhaps," Harry … Corvus agreed, and there was an oddly constricted feeling in his chest. He thought he knew what Snape meant. Too late to really be a parent. Too much … past between them. But whether it was out of guilt, or shame, or the _want_ that still echoed between them, his father wanted to help him. And Snape had a point. Harry had survived his childhood, but the neglect had left damage. He had mental and emotional scars which could become a weakness, if they were left untreated.

But ...

He didn't want to talk about the Dursleys and his childhood. Or the people who had died for him. Because of him. Like Sirius, and Cedric, and the Potters. His decision to ditch Harry Potter, and perforce his friends along with his old identity. What would happen once he had to go back to school. Or the prophecy. Voldemort. His … mother.

There were really a lot of things he didn't want to talk about.

Even though he knew he should. It was the only way to actually deal with things, instead of just pushing them away, like he usually did. However, not talking about his problems had been ingrained into him for most of his life. In fact, this was probably one of the ways in which he was damaged. Because he did not trust anyone with his troubles. And he didn't really know how to talk about them, either, because the Dursleys had certainly never listened to their unwanted 'nephew'.

But perhaps he could start small. Maybe with the one thing that kept preying on his mind even more than the other stuff, and making him feel guilty and insecure.

And in a way it would also work as a test. Whether Snape could manage to talk about Sirius without blowing up. Or if his father would … relapse, after all.

.

oOoOoOoOo

He sighed. "There are many things that I'm just … not thinking about," he admitted, staring off into space.

"Like what?"

"Well, the Dursleys certainly rank pretty high on the list. Then there's the whole mess with You-know-who and that stupid prophecy. And what will happen at school. Lots of stuff, really."

"I realise you have many issues ..."

"Mostly there is not much I can actually do about them. Aside from brood, which isn't a good idea, I know. But do you know what the worst is?"

"Tell me?"

"Strangely enough … Sirius. I know it's hardly my most pressing trouble. But I can't stop thinking about it. Maybe because it's such a real bundle of … contradictions."

Harry looked back at his father. Whose face had gone … blank. Distant. Shuttered. Well, no reaction was better than a negative one. So he ploughed on.

"You see, I feel guilty about him dying. Because if I hadn't been so stupid and let myself be led by You-know-who … it's like Cedric all over again."

He watched as comprehension came into his father's eyes. And a measure of distress.

"You are not at fault for either death, you realise that?"

He shrugged. "Of course. But what my mind knows, and what my heart feels, are two different things. Logically I know it's all his bloody fault. But if it had not been for me, and my decisions, they would not have been there for it to happen to them," he tried to explain why he felt guilty.

Because, no, he had not done the deed. Had not cast the curses which had killed. Yet those two had only been in a position to be struck because of him. Because of Harry Potter. Who was no more. Which did not exonerate him, of course, but … it might help Corvus Black find some closure.

Corvus Black, who suddenly found himself embraced by his father. Who hugged his son almost convulsively.

"Believe me, I do understand that. I will always feel guilty for every death I caused, however indirectly," Snape said, and … Corvus was glad he could not see his father's face at the moment. Because there was enough pain in his father's voice to make his heart hurt in sympathy.

"Did you ever kill … anyone innocent?"

"Directly? No. But few of the potions I brewed for the Dark Lord were … beneficial in nature. Even the healing potions went to restore his followers, after all. Many of them were nasty, or even Dark in nature. And I knew how they were going to be used, and still brewed them. Still do, for that matter."

"Still?"

"He would hardly let me live, if I refused. So as long as I continue spying … "

"Oh. I had not considered … that."

"Why do you think most order members treat me with such wariness and contempt? They know I only do what I have to, but they do not like it at all. Neither do I, but … "

"You do what you have to?"

"You understand. Yet while I would willingly sacrifice myself, every harm I cause to innocents irks me greatly. For all my spying prevents deaths and hinders the Dark Lord, the work I must do for him aids him. It is a delicate balancing act … and ..." Snape broke off, and Harry felt him stiffen in distress.

"What? Father?"

For a moment he felt almost crushed as Snape's arms tightened painfully, before the man released him again. The moment was almost unbearably … emotional. Obviously for both of them. Neither dealt easily with emotions. And it was the first time he had given his father the accolade.

"I know I shall be glad when I can finally stop. For that I must thank you, in a way."

"But Dumbledore would not force you to continue, would he?"

"Never, but my own consciousness would not allow me to stop. It was a measure of atonement, always. And yet ..."

"You can't help feeling bad about what you have to do?"

"Yes."

The word was spoken starkly. Some burdens were inescapable, and he realised now that his father carried burdens every bit as heavy as his own, and guilt even worse. They were really so similar in their reactions, it was almost inconceivable how they could ever have been so at odds with each other.

"Well, so you can understand why I feel bad about Sirius and Cedric dying. Cedric had such promise, and all his life before him … and Sirius had spent all that time in Azkaban, and was still not really free … and now they are both gone. But it's not just that, you see."

"No? What else plagues you?"

"Mostly I feel upset because I let _him_ trick me. What if I fall for something else? It makes me feel terribly insecure about my judgement."

"You must not let it cripple you. Yes, some of your decisions had a bad outcome. But you were forced into situations, and decisions, that a grown, experienced man would struggle with. Do not despair if you failed, especially when the odds were so against you."

"But ..."

"You can only learn from it. Be more wary in the future. Do not take things at face value. Look for advice and help when possible. But self-doubts serve no-one. They would only play into his hands. Do what you can, as best you can. Learn from your mistakes, but do not hesitate. Never hesitate," Snape said, his dark eyes capturing his son's with their intensity.

"But isn't that like rushing in thoughtlessly? Like a Gryffindor?" Corvus asked rather sarcastically. Because some of the advice had sounded a bit contradictory.

He heard his father sigh. "As always, it is a matter of finding the right response. Sometimes, there is time for careful consideration and planning. And sometimes you need to act, and not hesitate, and do your best with what you have at hands. You are not to be blamed for mistakes made in innocence, even though you still must suffer the consequences. You simply did not know any better. If you had known the outcome, would you have shared the cup with Cedric? Would you have gone to the Ministry?"

"No. Of course not."

"There you are, then. It is only when you willingly do something you consider wrong, and for no good reason, that you are truly at fault."

"So when you do something for him, when you know it will harm someone ..."

"I do so knowing they would likely come to harm anyway, through other means, and that my actions are somewhat counterbalanced by the good I can … hopefully … achieve. It does not help with the feeling that I condemn my soul every time. But I do so knowingly. You had no idea what the outcome of your actions would be. You did so only out of the innocent willingness to share a victory, and the perceived need to rescue someone. That hardly compares to what I do," Snape said, and Corvus shivered at the self-loathing he could hear in his father's voice.

"Please," he said, and this time it was him who put his arms around the other man. "I can't bear to hear you sound so … like you hate yourself."

"But I do. It is a terrible stain on my consciousness," Snape replied, sounding tired. But he didn't pull away. "Nothing can ever wash it away."

"Not even time?"

"Maybe. If I have that time."

"You didn't ever consider surviving this, did you?"

There was no answer. Which was an answer in itself.

"We are both a right mess, aren't we?"

The older man sighed unhappily. "It would seem so, yes."

They stood together for long moments, before Snape finally made to move away again. Corvus let him go.

"So. Was that all which troubles you about his death?"

He gave a short, bitter laugh and shock his head. "I wish. As I said, it's a real bundle of … nasty stuff."

"Well? What else is on your mind then?"

"Possibly the worst bit. You see … I also feel guilty, and ashamed, because there is a part of me that is almost … glad he is gone," he said disconsolately. "Because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to deal with this well at all. And because I fear he would have hated me now, as he hated … you and … her. I mean, I can't know this, of course. I will never know for sure."

He cast his eyes down, and noticed how his hands had clenched into fists. He relaxed them deliberately, still feeling the burn where his nails had dug into his palms.

"Perhaps he would have been okay with it … eventually. Or maybe I'm not giving him enough credit, and he'd have accepted me anyway, even with you as my father," he continued, looking back up at Snape. "After all, while I'm not James' son, I'm actually related directly to Sirius now, so … perhaps. Perhaps it would have been all right."

He sighed and pulled at the dark locks falling around his face. "But I'll just never know."

"No," his father agreed, and his eyes seemed shadowed by some dark memory of his own. "Some things … we will never know."

"Time, was it?

"And the gift of forgetfulness. Eventually."

"How about some better memories instead?"

"We could try that, yes."

"Let's."

"All right."

And their eyes met with matching wry smiles. Maybe they could help each other. After all, some things could only be easier when you no longer had to deal with them … alone.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Hey, Dora," Corvus greeted his cousin with a smile. His cousin. And he was looking forward to meeting her mother, who was his aunt. A real aunt, not the sour-faced prune he'd always thought of as his aunt.

If only for that, he knew he'd made the right decision when he chose to live as Corvus Black. Though the relationship with his father was shaping up to be rather … satisfactory, too. Because that feeling of _want_ which had originally driven him to choose this had not gone away, but instead solidified into something oddly companionable. They got along amazingly well, all things considered. He suspected his father was just as surprised by this. But they were similar in many respects, and now that Snape was no longer taking out his hatred for James on Harry Potter, they managed to deal quite well with each other.

He doubted it was anything like a normal father-son relationship, or would ever be. Though he'd be the first to admit he had no clue what one of those was really like. But they had certainly missed out on all the early bonding experiences. At this late point, he'd have to be content with what he could get. And for all that they got along so well, their interactions were always rather stiff and reserved. They were both very careful with each other. Their developing relationship wasn't something either wanted to take for granted. It was too … fragile. But then, it was also simply still too … new.

Like a newly planted seedling. It needed careful tending and care, and this plant would probably never grow into something normal. But it was there. It _was_ growing, and developing, and responding well to the care both of them were putting into it. The roots were starting to go deeper. Things between them increasingly felt more … solid. Those roots were all about being able to rely on the other. About trust. Which was unexpectedly there as well.

It was also putting out shiny green leaves of … he'd have to call it a kind of friendship. Which made sense, since he was simply too old to have a real child-adult relationship with his father. Yes, he would always be the younger, but he was also at the point of turning adult himself. And he'd already been through too much. Lost too much innocence. He was no longer a child which needed taking care of. So … maybe there could be something like having a mentor instead. An older friend.

And finally there were those odd blossoms of … care. There was no other word for the warm feeling he got simply from seeing his father smile at him. Or every time Snape did something considerate, or joked with him. Harry Potter would never have thought the dark wizard had a sense of humour. Corvus Black, on the other hand, had found his father to have an endless supply of dry, sarcastic wit and snarky comments that were at times really funny.

And whenever he got that feeling of being _wanted_, it was as if the tender plant was being watered by cool, refreshing rain, while simultaneously basking in sunlight.

He realised now that he had long ago resigned himself to being unwanted, thanks to the Dursleys. So to have a father who actually wanted him, was … exceedingly satisfying. Even if the father in question was Severus Snape. But he was no longer Harry Potter. Corvus Black was certainly allowed to want his father, after having been separated from him for so long. Corvus Black could apparently also quite easily forget about how that father used to treat Harry Potter, provided he was treated differently. And he was. Their talk yesterday had definitely proven that. Again.

"Corvus?"

He came back to the present with a start. Dora was standing in front of him, watching him with a faint frown. On his own face. It was rather disconcerting, though actually less so than when she morphed into Harry. Corvus was still to some extent the stranger in the mirror.

"Hey, do your wool-gathering on your own time," she quipped, poking him in the chest. "Not when you are wasting my highly paid time! Oh wait, they aren't paying me. Damn."

She made a disgruntled face before winking at him.

He laughed. His cousin just had that effect on him. It often seemed as if she took nothing serious. Which wasn't true, of course. But it was easy to laugh with her. To feel light-hearted. And accepted. Both as family, and as a fellow conspirator.

"That's better. Now come on, we have work to do," she said, smiling softly.

"Yes, I know," he agreed with a sigh. "At the moment, there is simply too much to do, and not enough time to do it in. It feels like everyone wants a piece of me."

"Well, this piece of you belongs to me!"

"Yes, yes. All right. Let's get on with it then."

"Right. You mentioned something last time about some club you wanted to re-start at Hogwarts?"

"Indeed. Though we were not exactly … a club. More like an illegal organisation. You know, because of Umbridge," Harry explained with a grimace.

"Oh yes, the very pink Miss Senior Undersecretary. You know, she won the unofficial 'most hated Ministry employee' award three times running? And she was a horribly useless Defence teacher, from what I heard?"

"You said it. So we got a bunch of people together to help each other learn … but it sort of ended up with me teaching everybody else, mostly. Seems I got a knack for it," he admitted with a shrug.

"And you would like to continue that, but you are kind of stymied by not being Harry Potter anymore," she surmised.

"In a nutshell. So I thought maybe _you_ could start it back up together with Hermione and Ron. And well, 'Harry' will know Corvus from staying together with him here for a couple of weeks. So if we play it right, Corvus might be the natural choice to take over by the time Harry has to disappear?"

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Getting a new identity _and_ a double for the old one does make matters … interesting, doesn't it?"

He nodded dejectedly. "Tell me about it. Seeing you run around as me together with my old friends … is not going to be easy, either."

"I'll try not to rub it in."

He sighed. "I would appreciate that. Thank you. Anyway, 'Harry' will therefore know Corvus is both good at Defence, and can be trusted. Well, mostly trusted. Convincing the rest of them of that will be up to you, though."

"Hmm, tricky. We definitely have to start working on it during the summer meetings already. If your core group trusts you sufficiently ..."

"Yes. I doubt we can get them to actually _like_ me, not with this rather … Slytherin personality I am cultivating, but they need to at least accept me as on their side."

"Let's hope for the best then. You might end up having to muzzle Ron Weasley, though," she said with an irreverent grin.

Harry … Corvus groaned, but then started to laugh. "Please, don't say things like that," he admonished her. "And try to keep in character."

Her look instantly turned serious. "Don't worry about that. I _am_ a professional. But you, young man, need some cheering up now and then."

"All right," he capitulated.

"Also, seeing me behave 'wrongly' should actually be helpful. The difference sort of highlights the pattern you are aiming for, if you know what I mean?"

"True. It is rather … amazing, actually, but I am starting to get a real feeling for Corvus' character."

"Probably because you _are_ Corvus, and you are mostly just bringing aspects of yourself forward that you had suppressed until now?"

He made a face. "My lovely hidden inner Slytherin self, apparently. I seem to waver between being happy it comes so easily, and appalled it comes so easily!"

Dora put a companionable arm around his shoulders. "There is no reason to be ashamed of having a Slytherin nature, cousin dear. Some very good people have come out of there, too. And ambition doesn't have to be something bad, either. I'm sure many important advancements would not have happened without the ambition to achieve new things."

I know," Harry admitted with a sigh. "I guess after five years in Gryffindor, I'm simply mildly brainwashed. Nobody there ever has anything good to say about the snakes. Having Snape as their head of house didn't help either, given how he generally treats the Gryffindors," he added, rolling his eyes.

"And just as you see your father differently now, you have to extend that to Slytherin in general. Yes, there is a lot of bad blood there at the moment. But there are also quite a few students from neutral families. A lot of those can be rather nice. In a snaky sort of way, of course," she concluded, tapping a finger on his nose.

"Right. Which reminds me. As a further complication for our little club … I would like to keep the possibility open of bringing some of those neutral Slytherins along."

"He only asks the impossible," she stated with a dramatic eye-roll. "But yes, we should try for that. The Sorting Hat has been harping about house-unity for how many years now?"

He nodded in agreement.

"Now it will probably be best if the original suggestion comes from you, while you are being Harry. We can bring in Corvus right before school starts, by that time 'Harry' will know him well enough. You can tell your friends you have been practising together, maybe?"

"Yes, that could work. Good idea, really. Maybe we can stage some practise duels? Though you'd better go easy on me, Miss Auror!"

"Hah! From what I hear, it's you who should go easy on me," she said, waggling her eyebrows comically.

He groaned. "Dora, I may be good … for my age … but no way I'm better than an Auror, especially one who's had Mad-Eye as a teacher for years."

"Then we'll just have to make you better, cousin dear."

"Yes, well. I think the word you are looking for is 'eventually'."

"That word is rather like a rubber-band."

"On the other hand, I will have both Remus and my father training me."

"That should make for a nice short rubber-band, then."

"Optimist."

"No, no, they are both pocket sadists, at least where teaching is concerned."

"Oh, I don't know, Remus has been pretty brilliant so far."

"While still working you really, really hard?"

"Well ..."

"I'll stick with sadist in that case."

"And here I thought you liked him?"

"Well, I don't want him as a teacher, do I?"

"Well ..."

She gave him a shove, making him lose his balance, and changed the topic. He found it rather fascinating to see a blush on his own face, though.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Now if anyone at Hogwarts thinks you are acting differently, you can always tell them you just lost your godfather. You can also drop hints about what happened at the Department of Mysteries. You want to mope around a lot, in fact. And you'd better generally not act too happy," he pointed out a while later, when they were discussing how she would need to behave at school.

"Now that will be quite a challenge. Still, your close friends will know it's really me, so I can always let my inner Tonks out around them," she answered with a wink. "And I'll be nicely morose and moody around the rest of the school, okay?"

"Don't forget to act worried, too. After all, 'Harry' knows he is in danger and might have to leave the school. You can hint about that as well, though better keep it to certain select people. I'll tell you who later."

"Right. And I'll make sure to look really sad whenever I take to scribbling in this," she said and pulled out a couple of nondescript journals, passing him one. "Auror issue, spelled to be linked to each other. You activate them with a drop of your blood on the first page so that only you and me will be able to read our respective copy. We use them for undercover missions to link with the handler."

"Perfect," he said with a smile. "And no-one can question Corvus' habit of journal-writing, since he is a total mystery."

"Hmm, yes. The dreamily handsome enigmatic mystery of Slytherin. Be prepared for half the females swooning over you, dearest cousin mine."

He rolled his eyes and made a face at her.

"At least they'll swoon over my face this time, and not over my name. That one really sucks. You'll see, nothing to make your day like being followed around by a bunch of goggle-eyed first years."

"Ugh. Now he tells me. I would have declined this mission, had I known!"

"Too late, no backing out now. If I can't escape my 'fame', you can't either," he pointed out with sly smile.

"Well, it should make it easier to look morose and annoyed," she speculated. "Is that why you were so often cross?"

"Let's say, it does not exactly help," he replied darkly.

"I see. Well, I guess I shall have to endure it. At least I know it will only be for a few weeks. Oh, and we can use something with the Protean charm on it for alerts."

"Ehm?"

"In addition to the journals. Probably some kind of jewellery. Or maybe a pair of pocket-watches … we could say 'Harry' got one for his birthday. And it would go nicely with your outfits, too."

"Ah, that's what you meant. Sorry, too rapid change of topic there. But yes, good idea. We did something similar for the DA, too. We used charmed coins to display the time of the next meeting," he explained.

"You are a clever lot, aren't you?"

"Well, that was Hermione's idea. She is brilliant at spell research. And …" he hesitated.

"What is it?"

"You'd better be extra careful around her. With what you say, especially about me. If anyone can figure this out, she will," he warned her, his face serious. "She unfortunately also has a bad habit of continuing to dig long past the point where she really should have stopped. Which might draw attention to me ..."

"Which we don't want, got it. If I notice her behaving strangely, I'll alert you and we can see if we can distract her."

"If we can't manage that, she will need to be taken under vow," Corvus concluded. "But it would be better, if she never realised."

His cousin suddenly gave him a very serious look.

"You really hate doing this to them, don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted stiffly, looking down. "I honestly do not care about loosing Harry Potter and his fame. But they are the only friends I ever had. I don't know if they will be able to forgive me for not telling them."

He was startled when Dora pulled him into a hug. Touch never came easy to him, but at moments like these it was easy to tell she'd been a Hufflepuff. Or maybe his cousin was simply a tactile person. It was, however, really strange to be hugged by yourself. Talking with your double was odd enough, but this was taking the strange to new levels.

"It will be all right," she told him. She didn't seem affected by the strangeness. But then she was the Metamorphmagus. Maybe to her it was normal. She'd been doing stuff like this since childhood, after all. Who knew what she used to get up to with the ability.

"What if I lose them?"

"You might," she agreed. "But you also might fall down the stairs tomorrow and break your neck. Or you could find they'll stick with you no matter what. Or you might make lots of new friends, now that people will not be put off by 'Harry Potter'."

"Yes, and Corvus Black, Death Eater spawn, will be so much better at making friends?" he asked sarcastically, giving her a dark look.

"Oh, but you will be Corvus Black, extremely handsome and mysterious Death Eater spawn, who will also make it clear that he wants no part of this war," she pointed out, looking entirely unruffled.

"I will never be just a normal guy, will I?"

"You should have picked different parents, if you wanted that."

He made a face at her. "Even when I get _new_ parents all of a sudden it doesn't get better."

"True, unfortunately. But you are starting to like him, admit it."

"It is rather easy, the way he treats me now. Why couldn't it have been like this before?"

She ruffled his hair. He swatted her hand away and made a face.

"I think you know all about: 'why couldn't things have been different'," she said, and for once looked sad.

"Yeah. And no matter what I do, it always seems to get worse and worse."

"Is this really … worse, though?"

He shrugged, which made her release him from the hug. He crossed his arms, and looked away from her.

"Some things are better. Others are worse. Mostly it's that everything is so different. And a lot of it is difficult, too. What all this isn't, however, is … _normal_."

"Corvus … Harry … you are a wizard. Compared to the vast majority of the human race, you will never be 'normal'. The rest is really just icing on the cake."

"Why can't I be a _normal wizard_, then?"

"Because there is no such thing as a 'normal wizard'. We are all insane, don't you know?" she said with a big grin.

"_You_ certainly are!"

"I aspire to always do my best! Even when it's falling on my nose, impersonating the Saviour, or getting him to laugh again," she declaimed proudly. "Now buck up and quit whining. One whiny cousin is enough for me, thank you very much."

"Ugh. Thanks for reminding me of Malfoy. I just can't escape having at least one horribly spoilt cousin, can I?"

"Yes, but this time you also have me!"

"Is this meant to be a positive or a negative fact?"

"You wound me, cousin dear."

"As if anything ever could," he said with a disbelieving snort.

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a sigh. He noticed her gaze seemed to stray longingly towards the house. Which was empty aside from a certain werewolf …

"Anyway, are you feeling better again?"

"It is hard to stay sad or upset around you," he admitted.

"That's the point. Right, so we both need to work with your friends to lay the ground-work for getting your little club started again. I'll sort out a couple of pocket-watches. I might ask Dumbledore for help on that one, I think. Especially for the charm. The more it can do, the better."

He nodded in agreement.

"And I got a fairly good idea now how to act as Harry, I think. Did our talk help you with Corvus, though?"

"Talking about the differences between him and Harry always seems to help. And I need all the practise I can get in just _talking_."

"Yes, I noticed you were trying hard to talk nice and slow and more formal."

"And it is bloody hard! Especially when I get upset or simply forget to watch myself."

"Another reason to keep your temper, then."

"Oh, yes. We also think it will be a good idea for me to mix in Spanish phrases. You know, common stuff that might slip in automatically. Hopefully the week there will help with that. I find them coming to mind already as it is, thanks to those tapes."

"Really?"

"Sí, es cierto."

Well, as long as you know what you are doing ..."

"Voy a intentarlo, por lo menos."

"All right ..."

"Really, I could not talk the language yet to save my life, but those phrases got stuck in my mind."

"Good. Now how about we finish this session with practising facial expressions?"

"Muy bien."

Dora sighed and made a face at him, sticking out her tongue. Not surprisingly, they didn't really get anything done for the next few minutes.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I'm sorry, but whenever the characters really start talking, they never seem to want to stop. This chapter was mostly meant to clear up some loose ends, but turned into one of these father-son bonding moments instead. I guess those two just have a lot of old baggage to clear up. And the session with Dora also got out of hand lengthwise. However, please note one of the focal points of this story really is _family_. Which was one of the main reasons why I choose Bellatrix as his mother. It not only opens up such a nice can of worms (le nasty Death Eater mother), but it also gives Harry/Corvus all those other relatives. Moreover, relatives that are established canon characters, rather than OCs.

I will from now on sometimes slip in Spanish phrases for Corvus (though mostly when he is talking to people who don't know he is Harry). Please do not crucify me when I get something wrong. I'll do my best, but I'm simply not that proficient in Spanish. So if someone spots a mistake, let me know and I'll correct it. The same applies to English, of course.

And finally, thanks to everyone who reviewed! The last chapter was by far my largest crop of reviews as yet, which was absolutely lovely! It is also good to know people approved of my take on Phineas and the Black family motto. He was not originally included in my cast of helpers for Corvus, but then the poor boy had his talk with Walburga and everything sort of developed from there.


	15. On the Eve of Departure

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"We will leave early tomorrow," Corvus told Phineas, trying to sound more like a cool Slytherin and less like an excited puppy.

The amused twitch of Phineas' lips indicated that he'd not really been successful.

"In that case, let me wish you a good journey," the former headmaster said dryly. "Try to comport yourself with some dignity while you are there."

Oh, he'd definitely not been successful.

"I will do my best, sir. Though I'm mostly worried about coming back," he confessed, looking away.

His aimless gaze caught on the frayed curtains shielding Mrs. Black's portrait. Frayed and dirty. Like the carpet. The faded wallpaper. The dust on the banisters of the staircase rising majestically into darkness. The dull glimmer of the chandelier, which had several pieces of crystal missing and was adorned by old, dust-blackened spider-webs. The house of the Black family was certainly in a bad state, despite Mrs. Weasley's occasional efforts at cleaning.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because that's when the real fun starts," he said glumly, staring at the dreadful chandelier. "We will have to go to Gringotts, and the Ministry. And I get to meet lots of people who don't know me yet, and may think me the devil incarnate."

On the plus side, he'd hopefully also be able to bind Winky the house-elf then. Dumbledore had been perfectly amenable when asked about her. So they would see if the dejected elf-girl wanted to be bound to house Black, and if that helped to restore her spirit. Which in turn should restore the old house to a better state. The place would certainly keep even the most dedicated house-elf busy for quite a while.

"But you know that you are not. Be proud of your heritage. Be proud of being a Black," Phineas told him rather forcefully.

"You mean the heritage where everybody assumes all Blacks are into Dark Magic? Or followers of some Dark Lord?" he asked sarcastically.

And where even the house itself was a dark, dusty shell of what might have been former glory.

Phineas winced noticeably. "Not that part, obviously. Though unfortunately you are right, that is what most everyone will look for still."

Corvus nodded moodily. "I know you want me to change the family's image … but that will take time. And a lot of work. And probably some luck, too."

"But mostly time, yes," the old wizard agreed. "Still, _you_ know there is more to being a Black than all this Dark … rigmarole."

"Yes, sir. And who knows, maybe the Spanish will give me a crash course in how to behave with pride," Corvus deadpanned, though his expression was distant.

Pride was definitely not something he had learned from the Dursleys. It was the one part of Corvus' character he really struggled with. Unfortunately, it was an essential part. But he was never taught to be proud of his own accomplishments, or his heritage. Quite the opposite really, since the Dursleys hated it if he did better than Dudley. And they'd tried hard to make him ashamed of his parents, too. Even though those parents were not actually his parents. He'd still grown up with getting his ancestry insulted at every turn.

Now the hypothetical childhood of Corvus Black was quite different. Supposedly his mystery guardian only knew his first name, and that he came from an old pure-blood family. And that his parents died in the struggles against a Dark Lord. Which meant Corvus would have been told to be proud of his family, even if he didn't know it. He most certainly would have been praised if he did well. Corvus also grew up in Spain, and the Spanish had a reputation of being proud.

So how would Corvus, who'd been raised by someone neutral, and made to believe his parents likely had been the same, respond to learning his mother was a Dark witch and follower of Voldemort? How would he react to being the new Lord of Black? How would he feel about being the head of a Dark family of ill repute?

He was raised to be proud of his family … but now he would feel rather conflicted about said family. So Corvus wouldn't necessarily be very proud of being a _Black_, but he still would have a much prouder personality overall than Harry Potter. Because Corvus didn't grow up unwanted and neglected.

So … be proud of yourself, but don't get too upset if someone says something about the Blacks. And you don't really want anything to do with your mother. You are disappointed in her. You're also annoyed you don't know who your father is. You don't like being a bastard, but you'll be damned if you let them know that. Right. Now all you need to do is work on the _be proud_ _of yourself_ part ...

"So which cloud did you disappear to this time?" Phineas asked sarcastically, bringing his descendant out of his thoughts. "You have a bad habit of wool-gathering, young man."

"Ehm, sorry, sir."

"And do not ever apologise like that, boy. Stare haughtily at them, and tell them you have no idea what they are talking about," the former headmaster said with a nasty gleam in his eyes. "If you really must apologise, make it sound as if _you_ are doing them a favour. And shove politeness down their throats until they choke on it, even if it is all false."

No wonder pure-bloods were considered so stuck up, if that was what they were told to do. Mistreated Harry Potter, the Gryffindor, would find it a real challenge to behave like that. But proud Corvus Black, the future Slytherin, in his damn … supportive corset, would make it happen. He raised his chin with determination and looked down his nose at the portrait.

"I was merely marshalling my thoughts, sir," he told Phineas in what he hoped was a calm and disinterested tone of voice. "I did not realise you wanted to continue our conversation."

"See? Much better. We will make a proper Slytherin out of you yet."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but agreed anyway.

"Yes, sir. And please remember, when I come back, that you've never seen me before."

"I shall enjoy meeting you then, young man."

"And that nobody may know who my father is," he added with a sidelong glance at Mrs. Black's painting. "Don't forget she doesn't know either, since he doesn't show up on the tapestry for some reason."

"Why do you hide it from her, though? You have her oath," Phineas asked, looking curious.

"Part of the reason she likes me is because she thinks I'm a pure-blood. I'd rather keep it that way for now."

"Hmm, yes. She is likely more manageable that way. Very well. Until your return then, young Lord Black," the old wizard said with a gracious smile.

"Thank you, sir. At least I will not have to hide myself anymore then."

"Ah, yes. The meeting tonight. Best you get yourself upstairs soon, sometimes they arrive early," Phineas advised. "Methinks I shall go pester Albus Dumbledore meanwhile," he added with an anticipatory look, and gave his descendant a cheerful wave before disappearing from his frame.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Harry ended the silencing spell he'd earlier cast around himself and Phineas, and moved the few steps over to Mrs. Black's portrait. The old witch was dozing peacefully in her chair, head propped up on her plump arm. He cleared his throat.

"Mrs. Black?"

She woke up abruptly, opening her mouth in clear readiness for a good screech … and stopped herself when she realised who it was that had woken her.

"Oh, it is you. I have not seen much of you," she sniffed in displeasure. "When you come around you always talk with the insufferable old codger instead, and he never lets me listen!"

She cast a scorching glare in the direction of Phineas' portrait, which now hung next to her.

"I am sorry, ma'am. But they are keeping me very busy. And headmaster Black has been teaching me, too. I fear you would have found us quite boring to listen to."

She sniffed again, disparagingly.

"Less boring than being left here on my own," she said, not diminishing the intensity of her glare one bit. "And he is always so nasty when he talks to me," she added with a great deal of indignation.

"Maybe if you behaved a bit more … deferential, ma'am? After all, he is your ancestor, too. And," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He is rather self-important, you know? Very stuck up on respect. Now you are such a _polite_ lady when you want to be, ma'am. I am sure you could get along quite splendidly with him, if you only tried?"

He gave her a hopeful smile. These seemed to work wonders on her, he'd found. Whenever she started screeching at one of the others in the house, all he needed to do was show up, be briefly polite, and smile at her hopefully. It worked like a charm every time.

It worked now as well. Her look softened and she coughed, sounding slightly embarrassed.

"I … may try that," she said, though she didn't look pleased.

"Please, ma'am," he pleaded with her, turning the hopeful smile up a notch. She melted at that, smiling back at him fondly.

"I will do my best," she promised him. "And it is nice talking to you again."

"I'm afraid I don't have very much time for talking, though. I mostly wanted to say good-bye, Mrs. Black," he told her politely. "I will be gone for the next week, and I need to go pack. We will be leaving early tomorrow."

"Have a good journey then, young Corvus. But what have I told you about calling me Aunt Walburga?" the woman in the portrait admonished him with a frown.

"Well, yes, ma'am. But please remember you do not actually know me … yet. I will also have to pretend I don't know you when I come back. So if I started calling you Aunt Walburga right away ..."

"Oh. Of course, dear. That I can understand. Do not worry, I will not forget," she said, smiling again.

"Thank you. And I will … after a while," he assured her.

And he would. Most certainly. If only to see everybody look totally flummoxed by someone having a _polite_ relationship with the screeching harridan. And well, even though he still didn't like her very much, she _was_ his great-aunt. Or had been. She was no longer alive, after all.

She was an impression of the real woman, captured and preserved on canvas. And probably animated by her spirit after her death, to some extent. Wizarding portraits were something he had no real understanding of. But they must be a bit like a ghost given the form of a painting. Because they clearly managed to retain their personality, as well as their knowledge, as evidenced by the two Black portraits. He thought they were too _real_ to be just the product of a spell, or mere memory.

He definitely needed to look up on Wizarding portraits. Preferably before he got stuck in one himself.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus was the last to show up for the Order meeting. Deliberately so, as he wanted to avoid the first uproar as everyone was told about the mysterious Black heir. And his mother, of course. By the time he joined the rest in the kitchen, things seemed to have settled down somewhat. And the wolf had apparently just started his part in their deception. Perfect timing, then. Especially since they had all been so focused on Lupin, that no-one took notice of Severus' arrival. Aside from Moody, but even the suspicious bastard merely gave him a twitch of his eyes.

"It's simple really," Remus explained, shrugging nonchalantly. "I am almost certain I have met the boy."

"What?!"

"Yes, I simply had no idea he was Corvus _Black_. But the boy I met was called Corvus, and looked a lot like Bellatrix. And the age would have been about right, too."

"And you didn't think anything of it?" Molly Weasley exclaimed.

"Not really, no. Because you see, that was in Spain. And well, he has the typical dark looks of the Spaniards about him. Since I had no reason whatsoever to assume a connection between the two, I simply chalked the resemblance up to coincidence. But now that we know the boy exists, it became quite obvious."

"And you still didn't say anything," Moody accused Remus. The restless roving of his false eye showed his agitation, even though his scarred face was impassive.

"I did no more than hint about it, I know. But I wasn't sure I was right. I had to ask … the person who was acting as the boy's guardian first. What I was told more or less confirmed my suspicion," the werewolf replied, sounding mildly harassed.

Severus had to admit he was rather impressed by Lupin's acting skills. And it was the perfect moment for himself to get involved. He leaned casually against the door-frame, crossing his arms.

"Whatever is the matter?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, his silky voice deceptively mild.

"Ah, Severus, just the man we need," Albus Dumbledore spoke up, with a gleam in his eyes, as they all turned around in surprise to stare at him.

"Why?"

"Well, you see, we recently learned of a previously unknown heir to the House of Black," Albus started his explanation. His entirely unnecessary explanation, but the rest couldn't know that, of course. "Whose mother is," the old man coughed delicately. "Bellatrix Lestrange, apparently."

Severus allowed a shocked expression to pass over his face briefly, before letting it settle back into its customary disdainful sneer. "Interesting," he admitted with a drawl. "How did you learn of this?"

"His name and lineage showed up on the Black tapestry," Albus said simply. "The kids discovered it the other day. And it seems Remus has actually met the boy before."

"Well, I know nothing about him. As far as anyone knows, Bellatrix never had any children," he lied easily. "You say he was living in Spain?" he continued, raising a questioning eyebrow at Lupin.

"Indeed. Though I do not really know very much, you must understand. The person he was with is … very secretive. But when asked, they confirmed the date of birth, and that the boy has been in their care ever since he was a babe."

"So Bellatrix had no hand in his raising?" Molly Weasley asked, disbelief warring with hope in her voice.

"To the best of my knowledge, she didn't," Remus confirmed. "Which is why I was not happy with you being so prejudiced and judgemental the other day," he added with a steely undertone.

Mrs. Weasley had the grace to look shamefaced, but rallied. "Well, how were we to know," she said, lifting her chin up in challenge.

The wolf's eyes were glinting. "You still should not have jumped to conclusions," he admonished her. "I know what it feels like to be judged for a name alone. You know, the little title of 'werewolf' I'm stuck with?"

Severus winced along with the rest of them.

"In any case his guardian has agreed to meet with me, and to let me talk with Corvus. Now that his parentage has come to light, the likelihood of You-know-who or Bellatrix learning of him has multiplied, and correspondingly also the danger they could find him. I hope to convince him to come to England with me," Remus concluded.

"You want to bring him to Hogwarts, don't you?" Elphias Doge asked shrewdly. "Is this really wise?"

The headmaster appeared to look troubled. "I see no other way. I hope he will wish to join our side in the coming conflict, but even if he decides to stay out of it, the boy will be safest there. At all costs he must be kept from joining Voldemort, though. We cannot permit the Black fortune and influence to fall into his hands."

"And so you want to turn him against his mother?" Severus asked smoothly.

"If need be," Albus confirmed offhandedly. "I hope it will not come to that. Remus told me the boy's guardian is apparently a person of integrity, though not inclined to become involved in conflict. Rather a scholar, I believe you said?" He shot the werewolf a questioning look. Lupin nodded in agreement.

"Yes. This person would be unlikely to ever join You-know-who, but would also not fight him unless forced to. They are … well, a bit unworldly, if you know what I mean. Give them books, and research, and they are happy." He shrugged to show that he didn't agree. "Not necessarily the worst person to raise a child of questionable origin, though."

Moody laughed harshly. "Questionable origin, indeed. Do you have any idea who fathered the little bastard?"

Remus gave him a cool look. "We don't. All we know is that it wasn't Lestrange. But the tapestry does not say, and the boy's guardian did not know either. They were in fact only told his first name, and that his parents were dead."

"So it could be anybody?" Moody persisted.

"Yes. Anybody likely and able to get Bellatrix with child, that is," Remus replied with a gleam in his eyes. And if those eyes lingered for a moment on a certain dark-haired wizard standing across from him on the other side of the room, no-one but Severus himself seemed to notice. He almost snorted. Likely and able, indeed. The werewolf certainly had a more interesting and dark sense of humour than he would have expected.

"What was your impression of the boy, when you met him?" Kingsley suddenly asked, sounding quite curious.

"Hmm, I can hardly remember, it was a couple of years ago. Polite. Very guarded. Rather grown up, but that's hardly surprising. I don't think the boy was ever very much around other children. His guardian is somewhat … paranoid, I have to say. I'm sure you would approve of them, Moody," Lupin said slightly mocking.

"Hmpf. I'm still not sure it's a good idea to bring the boy here. To headquarters, I mean."

"What do you propose we do instead, Moody?" Severus asked in a contemptuous drawl. "Leave him there for the Dark Lord to find? And in all likelihood, the house itself belongs to him, bastard-born or not."

Several heads came up at that statement, mostly belonging to assorted Weasleys.

"The house belongs to _Harry_!" Molly Weasley declared stridently, clearly on the warpath. Arthur nodded firmly beside her. "Sirius left it to him."

"Calm down, Molly," Albus said soothingly. "I fear we will have to stop our attempts to get Sirius' name cleared. Without that, his will remains contested. But if we continue to push for clearing him, someone will notice the house-leadership has changed, and then … it would only be a matter of time before the boy is discovered."

"So what? You would deny Harry his inheritance because of _Bellatrix's_ son?"

"Harry does not mind. He does not really want the house anyway, Molly."

"How can you know that, Albus? And even if he says that now, he may come to rue it later!"

The old wizard sighed and gave her a forbidding look. It didn't quell her ire, but at least she moderated her voice.

"The poor boy has been through so much, he shouldn't have to lose his inheritance to … to some stranger!"

The boy would likely be heartened Molly was willing to defend him, and exasperated she made things more complicated, Severus thought privately. But there was no way he would agree to letting the Weasleys in on their secret. Because they were all horrible actors. Not that his son had even asked for it. But then Corvus knew the family well, too. Or maybe he was actually afraid of rejection if they learned of his real parentage? It seemed unfortunately a possibility, given their behaviour so far.

"And how do you think we can get the boy on our side, if we attempt to keep him from his heritage? If he really is the heir of Black, the goblins will acknowledge him, and the Ministry will not dare to overturn that. Do you _want_ to drive him into the enemy camp?" Remus put in, looking quite annoyed with her.

"He's likely to go there anyway, nasty little ..."

"Stop it right there, Molly!" Albus interrupted her, sounding very displeased now. "Have you truly not listened to anything Remus told us? Just because we cannot be sure of the boy's eventual allegiance, there is no reason to believe he will end up the enemy! But if we want him as our ally, we need to treat him as such. One of the reasons Remus is going there to meet with him, is to find out where the boy's loyalties might ultimately lie. To see how he reacts to learning about his mother. Nothing is set in stone until then," he allowed with another forbidding look around the table. "But none of you will judge him before he has even been approached!"

"So that is your last word on this, Albus?" Moody broke the stunned silence after the headmaster had all but shouted them down.

"Yes," Albus said starkly, after giving a heavy sigh. "Remus will talk with him, and depending on his conclusions, may bring him here. You do not need to know what he will do if the boy should prove … unsatisfactory."

"Surely you wouldn't ..." Molly appeared horrified at even the suggestion of foul play, despite her willingness to condemn the boy out of hand just moments before.

Severus was increasingly running out of patience with the meddlesome woman, who seemed unable to make up her mind. Unfortunately, he could not openly take his son's side in this, as being defended by a former Death Eater was unlikely to help the boy's image in their eyes.

"Wouldn't _what_? There are several ways to deal with the problem of the boy without harming him. We have a couple of backup plans in place, Molly. Do not concern yourself with matters which do not involve you! This meeting was merely to inform everyone about his existence, and to warn you of his possible arrival in a week or so. We will _not_ bring him here, if we think he is a security risk. So please refrain from interfering," the headmaster concluded, sounding quite irritated. "Unless you really think I do not know what I am doing?"

Uncomfortable silence fell around the table, as the old wizard speared everyone with an unaccustomed glare. Severus found himself smirking back at the headmaster and his masterfully played ultimate gambit card. Finally Albus himself broke the silence to continue the meeting.

"Now are there any other matters to report?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "I am not sure if any of you are aware of it yet, but there are indications of recent Death Eater activity in Diagon Alley. They apparently kidnapped Florean Fortescue, of all people. And left his shop a total mess. Though it is possible there is a connection to another disappearance, which frankly is rather more troubling."

"Who else, Kingsley?"

"Ollivander has also not been seen since that day."

"Now that is indeed worrisome," Albus Dumbledore said gravely. "Was there any indication that he was abducted, though?"

"No. According to reports his shop is empty, and there is no sign of any struggle. So there is no way to tell whether he left on his own, or was taken. And no witnesses have come forward, either."

"Ollivander is no coward. I find it unlikely he would have fled, especially without leaving word. Therefore we must assume he was kidnapped, too. You are all to keep your eyes and ears open for him, most of all you, Severus."

"Certainly, Albus," Severus agreed smoothly. "Now was that all for tonight? I still have work to do ..."

"I believe we are finished, but please stay behind, Severus. I have something to discuss with you regarding the warding of Hogwarts."

They watched everyone else filter out of the kitchen. A couple of minutes after everyone had left, Lupin stuck his head back in with a questioning look.

"Ah, very good Remus. I was hoping you would come back. We need to discuss the details of your journey tomorrow."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Remus must be seen to leave the country alone," Albus explained once the three of them had all settled around the table again. "Which is why you, Severus, will be the one to take Corvus to Spain early tomorrow. You will both need to be poly-juiced for the portkey journey, and afterwards some charms should easily do the trick."

The old wizard gave his potions master a considering look. "Yes, indeed. Both of you should blend in easily enough over there, so giving you a tan," the headmaster said with an almost malicious smirk. "And altering your features a bit should be enough."

Severus sneered back at the headmaster, but refrained from commenting about the 'tan'.

"Anyway, Remus will 'disappear' once he reaches the country, ostensibly to search for Corvus and his mystery guardian. In reality, he will meet up with the two of you and you can get a feeling for the country, as well as stay with some of Remus' friends."

"How will we meet up with him?"

"Remus will deposit a portkey for you at the international portkey office."

"Which means he has to be there before us?"

"Yes. I will leave sometime during the night. Fortunately, international portkey offices are open around the clock," the werewolf explained. "And it is unlikely there will be any observers in the early morning hours."

"Indeed. Then on the twelfth, which is a Monday, Severus will return to England. At the same time, Remus and Harry will finish in Madrid, where I hope you can procure … Corvus, a new wand. We had planned on this anyway, but after the news about Ollivander … it is now essential you do so. Afterwards, both of you will resume your real appearance and be seen together in the wizarding area there for the rest of the day. You can go to the Gringotts branch and where-ever you deem suitable as venues for Corvus to want to visit before leaving his country."

"Getting a wand should not be a problem," Remus put in quietly. "There is a quite adequate wand-maker in _el recinto de la magia_."

Albus nodded at him and continued to outline the plan.

"Meanwhile, Severus will officially be staying at Hogwarts as my deputy. As reason for this I have let it be known that the headmaster or a deputy must be present at all times to maintain the integrity of some new wards we put up since Voldemort is back. I will claim the need to be absent for a week, and all the other heads of house have already conveniently gone elsewhere."

"And thus it falls to me to get stuck at Hogwarts," Severus drawled in fake irritation. "I will have to vent my displeasure loudly and publicly."

"Literally stuck. I plan to have the castle locked down during the next week."

"Meaning I have to send a quick message as I leave now, so he does not try to call me during the next week ..."

"And later you will have to stress how very annoyed you were about it, and that it clearly was a ruse to keep you at school."

"Indeed. So when I tell him it was during this week that Remus 'fetched' Corvus, he will assume it was to keep me from informing him."

"Yes. We want him to believe I do not trust anybody but Remus and myself around Corvus."

"It will unfortunately also make him think your trust in me is wavering ..."

"I know," Albus said heavily. "But better than the risk of you getting called while you are away in Spain. On the plus side, you can tell him you used the opportunity to learn more about those 'new' wards. That should make him happy."

Severus sighed unhappily. "Very true. I suppose I am to fabricate any lie I want in that regard?"

"As long as you tell me as well, in case I need to do something to the actual wards, certainly."

"I have an idea or two. Maybe Remus can help me ..."

"Of course, Severus. And we might find some inspiration in Spain, too."

"Excellent, dear boys. Tom will hopefully also assume I went to Spain together with Remus to convince Corvus to come with us, and that I left you stuck at Hogwarts to avoid any possible risk of interference."

"And how will you prove I was at Hogwarts?"

"I am sure Nymphadora will oblige us with a few guest appearances," the old wizard said, smiling innocently. "I believe she wanted to impersonate the great bat of the dungeons for a while now. So she can sweep about the grounds, apparently inspecting the wards, in case he is having the castle watched."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, looking displeased.

"She will also give Harry an alibi by showing herself to various Order members assigned as security to Grimmauld Place in Remus' absence. She will not have to talk much with them. 'Harry' will obviously be feeling down all alone here without Remus, so it will not be suspicious if he avoids them. I simply have to pick people who do not know him well, and it should be easy."

"I have to agree that the boy is rather good at moping."

"Indeed. Then as soon as you return here, Severus, and I have apparently 'freed' you from Hogwarts, you will go to Tom and tell him about the Black heir being found."

"And I shall pray he will not blame the messenger," Severus sighed, looking resigned. "Though if I play my cards right, he should be angry with Bellatrix instead."

"Hmm, yes. After all, your involvement in this is minimal so far. Even if it comes to the worst case of there being a mole in the order, you could not have informed Tom earlier unless you risked your cover being totally blown. But her role … "

"Is rather a betrayal of the Dark Lord. Or at least he will view it as such. I doubt he will kill her outright, but … it should at the very least diminish her influence greatly. Likely he will punish her harshly for daring to bring a child in the world, and then lose it ..."

"Yes. Hopefully the search for the father will keep him occupied for a while."

"He does tend to get obsessed. Though hopefully, he will not become too much so with my son, Albus," Severus said with a feeling of dread.

"Fortunately, we have the perfect red herring to distract him already in place, don't we? I believe the fish in question is called Harry Potter, who is due for a spectacular disappearing act in the near future."

"Sometimes I think you like convoluted plans even better than lemon drops, Albus."

The old wizard just gave him a wink and fished out his candy tin.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I am open for suggestions regarding Corvus' new wand. As he just had a big shock, and is currently in the progress of giving himself a complete overhaul, I feel something quite different to his old one may be in order. I would also love to get ideas for Corvus' Patronus. Frankly, now he no longer thinks of James Potter as his father, that should change, too. It will also conveniently differentiate Corvus further from Harry. Personally, I favour a bird of some kind. Though not a raven, that would be just too obvious. The one that keeps coming to my mind is, strangely, a dove. What do people think of that idea?

Thanks again for the reviews! Yes, a 'neutral' Slytherin is the most likely candidate for a pairing, but I have not decided upon any romances yet. Frankly, Corvus will have bigger worries at first, but there will definitely be flirting. Because I like flirting. I also need to pick out a grouping of 'neutrals' from the Slytherins and Ravenclaws, with a Hufflepuff or two thrown in for good measure. And it's good to know people like Tonks. (I tend to call her Dora, as I just don't like 'Tonks'. I think it is a dreadful name.) She does, indeed, add a certain element of irreverence to the story to keep it from getting too angsty.


	16. ¡Viva España!

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Someone was shaking his shoulder quite insistently. Harry groaned and tried to flop over.

"Go away, Ron," he muttered into his pillow. "It's too early to get up."

"Hmm. Another thing to consider. Your reaction when you are woken up," a smooth, deep voice said close by his ear, while the hand stopped shaking his shoulder and instead delivered a light blow to his well-wrapped backside.

Not that it had hurt at all, but the shock of the unexpected made him sit up abruptly in bed, meeting the amused dark eyes of … his father. Not Ron. Of course not. And it was still night-time because they were going to take a portkey early to avoid bumping into anyone. Right. He brought his hands up to rub at his bleary eyes, shaking his head to clear the sleep from his foggy mind.

"Time to get up, son of mine," Snape drawled sarcastically, though there clearly was amusement in his voice. He also appeared to be disgustingly awake already. "I dare say it is fortunate you shall have your own room in Slytherin."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, which morphed into a yawn. "Ugh. Could you stop the charm please? It was verb forms tonight. They echo even worse than vocabulary," he said with a grimace, stretching his arms while trying to work the crick out of his neck.

"Be glad you can learn them this way."

"Oh, I am," he admitted. "But it's hard to think when you have conjugations echo through your head."

"How are the language lessons coming along overall?" Snape asked curiously, flipping his wand into his hand to perform the counter-charm.

Harry groaned in relief as past tense forms stopped reciting themselves.

"Not too bad, I suppose. Not having to do the 'by heart' learning parts really speeds things up. Remus thinks a week around native speakers will be good for me, though. To bring it all together and get me into the habit of talking."

"That sounds reasonable," his father agreed, walking towards the window and parting the drapes a couple of inches.

"Still dark, huh?"

"Indeed. I shall leave you to get ready. Try not to dawdle too much," Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

Harry looked up at him from the effort of fishing his errant left slipper from under the bed. "Yes, sir! Of course, sir," he replied ironically, rolling his eyes at his father.

"Would you care to meditate upon the possible consequences of cheeky behaviour in the early morning?" Snape asked him in his best dangerously smooth potion master's tones. His expression was more amused than forbidding, however.

"Not really. Sorry," Harry replied, trying to sound and look suitably contrite.

"I see," was all his father said, letting the drapes fall closed again and moving towards the door. "I will see you downstairs soon then, I hope."

"Sure. I'm all packed anyway," he pointed out, jerking his chin to where an elegant new trunk sat open next to the wardrobe.

His father had shown up with that yesterday before the Order-meeting. It was much fancier than his old one, the wood polished and with beautiful inlays around the edges. It also came with a number of useful permanent charms and interior space extensions. Now it was filled with his new wardrobe and pretty much everything else he owned. His old trunk would have to go with Tonks, of course. So this new one was kind of a necessity, really. Just a really nice necessity.

And it was doubly necessary, because Corvus Black just wasn't poor. So a ratty old trunk was definitely out of the question for him. Admittedly Harry Potter hadn't exactly been poor, either, but that guy had no concept of wealth and nice things, thanks to the horrible Dursleys. He could all too easily imagine life with them, if they'd thought he had any money they could get their greedy hands on …

But that was the past. The present was quite different. And the future promised to be even more so.

At the moment the future involved getting ready for a trip to Spain. He was going abroad. He was finally going to see a different country, and the sea-side. He was about to meet a lot of new people, none of whom knew him as Harry bloody Potter. He sure wasn't going to dawdle, no sir.

.

oOoOoOoOo

He got no complaints when he presented himself downstairs in rather less than half an hour for a quick breakfast; showered, combed, dressed and with his new trunk in tow. And more than ready for the day, which in his mind was going to be one big adventure. He suspected he was amusing his father no end with his pathetic eagerness during their simple, hurried breakfast. Thankfully, the man didn't say anything about it, though his mouth kept twitching suspiciously.

And then it was finally time to leave. His trunk had been shrunk, and weren't weightless, self-shrinking trunks the most nifty thing ever? He made a quick detour to say good-bye to Hedwig, ducking for a moment into the room which served as an improvised Owlery. The white owl calmly accepted his parting pats and promises to return with a careful nibble on his thumb.

He'd left some pre-written letters to his friends with Dora. His cousin would send them out with Hedwig over the next couple of days. In the letters he'd complained bitterly that Dumbledore wouldn't let him leave Grimmauld Place even though Remus was absent. Nor could his friends come visit, which was stupid, right? He was stuck here all alone, aside from the various people taking turns playing guard. He didn't even know most of them. So out of utter boredom he was going through his old schoolbooks and a pile of Defence books Remus had left him. Still, better than staying with the Dursleys, etc.

He was pretty sure Dumbledore would be getting an earful about poor Harry's imprisonment when Mrs. Weasley next got hold of the headmaster.

When he arrived at the sitting room, he was met by a stranger with short, curly blond hair and blue eyes. Or it would have been a stranger, if he hadn't worn Snape's trademark sardonic smirk on his face. A potion vial was sitting on the table, clearly waiting for Harry. He eyed it with disfavour, because it could really only be one thing … Polyjuice.

"I see you know what this is?"

"Not too hard to work out, is it?"

"Hmm," Snape agreed, eyeing him thoughtfully. "The curiosity is more how you know to dislike it so much. I was not aware you had prior experience with it?"

He sighed, and made a face. "Could I tell you about it later, please?"

"We _are_ on a schedule," his father assented, still with that calculating expression on his face.

Ah well, one more secret he'd have to spill. He took the vial and drank the potion without comment. He couldn't help make a grimace at the gruesome taste, though. It was just as horrible as he remembered. Snape took the empty vial from him without saying anything, but his eyes never left Harry's face.

And then there was the painful stretching and melting sensation as the potion kicked in. Not to mention the highly uncomfortable feeling all over his body as his skin transformed. He closed his eyes and held onto the table for balance as he waited for the change to complete. Apparently the person he was changing into had been chosen to be about his size, because his clothing still fit. But one thing was for sure, Polyjuice was never going to win the price for his most favourite potion, no matter how useful it was. It was simply too horribly unpleasant.

Of course this … wonderful experience was then followed by ... flooing. Which was not exactly his most favourite activity either.

Though once again Snape demonstrated the usefulness of having a father around. First by offering advice before stepping through, and then by keeping his son from falling over when they emerged at their destination. This aspect of having a parent was one he could get used to pretty quick.

London's international portkey office proved to be a very boring place. One side held fireplaces and designated arrival areas, the other a row of desks with overflowing shelves behind them. Only one of the desks was currently manned, and when Snape stepped up to it, the clerk gave him a bored look and a standardised greeting. When he was told they had pre-booked, he consulted a list, snatched a piece of cord with a tag attached from a shelf, and all but shoved it into Snape's hands. Obviously eager to get them out of there, so he could get back to whatever activity they'd interrupted.

He really shouldn't have done that. Because a certain potions master never approved of shoddy work ethic. Snape made a lengthy production out of signing the receipt and pocketing it, all the while glaring at the clerk who was wilting visibly. Harry had to admit it was actually rather amusing to witness this, since for once he wasn't on the receiving end. Eventually even Snape was satisfied with tormenting the young clerk, and came over to stand by his son with the portkey, directing him to grasp one end of the cord.

"Are you any better at travel by portkey than at flooing?" he asked quietly.

"Unfortunately not. Everything but flying seems to disagree with me," Harry admitted mournfully. The day had started out so promising …

"Perhaps you could try using your Occlumency trigger? Your problems are possibly due to loss of equilibrium, and if you can fool your mind to believe you are floating in the first place ..."

"Worth a try, I guess," he replied somewhat dubiously, but obediently closed his eyes and filled his mind with clouds.

"Let us see, then. _Portus_," Snape said firmly, after giving Harry a minute to concentrate, and then the familiar feeling of a hook through his navel tore him away.

Amazingly, it _was_ better. Not that his landing was any more graceful, but he didn't feel nauseous, which was a definite improvement.

"Better?"

He nodded, and opened his eyes. Spain had a much nicer portkey office. The floor was tiled beautifully, with the arrival areas outlined by colourful inlays. The furnishings were of age-darkened oakwood, which stood out in sharp contrast to the white walls. But most of all there was a lot of light in the room, coming through huge windows. And there were flowers and herbs growing in tall earthenware pots, filling the room with scent. Quite a contrast to the dreary British counterpart.

They were finally in Spain. Away from home, which always seemed to be cloudy and rainy. Well, not always, obviously, but way too often. The air here felt dry, and the sky visible through the windows was a wonderful blue. He wandered over to the window, while Snape went to consult with yet another clerk. The guy had a funny accent, but otherwise spoke English rather well.

The view was not as exciting as the sky had promised, as the window merely overlooked an empty courtyard. It did have a wall overgrown with blooming Bougainvillea though, and he feasted his eyes on the intense purple colour.

"I can't believe this," his father's voice suddenly said behind him, startling him.

"Believe what?"

In reply Snape handed him a piece of paper. When Harry turned it around he found a short message in Remus' handwriting, though it was signed by a Señor Ochoa. The message was only one short sentence: 'The activation phrase is Mr. Twinkle's favourite sweets.'

"Mr. _Twinkle_?" Harry's voice was just as disbelieving.

"Admittedly, it is an appropriate designation."

"Yeah," he agreed, handing the paper back.

In return his father offered him one end of a simple wooden spoon.

"Keep your eyes open this time."

"That makes it much harder to think of clouds," Harry objected.

"You should be perfectly able to do this by now, Corvus," Snape admonished him. "You cannot keep your eyes closed while occluding, either."

"All right, I'll do it," he agreed hastily. When he had filled his mind with clouds as much as possible, he gave his father a nod. "Ready."

"Sherbet lemon."

oOoOoOoOo

They landed in a courtyard, Snape reaching out an automatic hand to keep Harry from falling. He gave his son a critical once-over, shaking his head in exaggerated despair.

"That was better, but hardly graceful yet. I suppose further practise in the various forms of wizarding travel is indicated before you go to school," he drawled. "We should start you with apparition lessons anyway. You can get your licence once you are emancipated, and being able to apparate from danger is undeniably advantageous."

Harry nodded, making a sound of vague agreement, as he was busy taking in his surroundings. They were breathtaking, even though it was just a small internal courtyard.

At the centre was an old olive tree, crippled and bent. It sat in an elevated bed surrounded by a low stone wall, and an assortment of sweet-smelling herbs and flowers grew in profusion around its roots. Simple stone benches formed a square around it, and the ground of the courtyard was tiled in terracotta. The roof around it was overhanging, forming a shaded walkway, which was supported by columns built from red bricks matching the floor tiling. Against the darkened background of the walkway, huge old Oleander-bushes in full bloom alternated with climbing plants trained on intricately carved wooden trellises.

The temperature was comfortable at this early hour, but the residual dryness promised the return of heat later. The sun barely made it into the courtyard yet, casting long shadows. The yard was also quite deserted.

"Well, they couldn't know when we would arrive," Snape commented, idly scanning the empty courtyard. "Do pay attention, Corvus."

He watched his father flick his wand into his hand and execute the familiar movements of a Patronus spell.

"_Expecto Patronum Nuntium_," the older wizard said decisively, and a delicate, transparent doe appeared from his wand-tip. She stopped in front of her summoner, flicking her ears. "Tell Remus Lupin: 'We have arrived'," Snape instructed the doe, who immediately set off towards one side of the courtyard.

"This is how you send a message via a Patronus," he calmly instructed Harry, who'd been staring after the doe in fascination. "Since you can summon one, it makes sense to show you this. It is a very secure means of communication, since the Patronus cannot be counter-feinted."

"Oh. Right. So just the altered incantation?"

"You also need to concentrate hard upon your intent to cast a message," Snape said with a nod. "Here. Better take this before our hosts and Remus arrive. It is the counter for the Polyjuice."

He handed his son another potion vial. "Doesn't it end soon anyway?" Harry asked with dismay.

"The effects can last up to twelve hours, if it was brewed competently. Surely you do not assume I would brew anything … sub-standard?" the potions master told him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hardly. You simply always hear that it lasts about an hour," he replied vaguely, uncorking the vial and downing the contents.

Regaining his natural form was every bit as unpleasant as the reverse process. Once it was finished, he checked himself over carefully. Which reminded him that he really needed to think of himself as _Corvus_ again. He still tended to regress to _Harry_ in the mornings. Or when something came up that reminded him strongly of the past. Sometimes he despaired that it would ever feel entirely natural and normal, but then he would remember that it had only been a few days so far. If he still struggled with it after a year or so, then it was time to start worrying for real.

"The glamour is still working?" he asked, touching his scar. That was one thing he couldn't check without a mirror on hand.

"Yes. Ah, here they come."

A beaming Remus was hurrying towards them, followed more sedately by a Spanish couple dressed in casual robes.

"Severus. Corvus," he greeted them happily, as if they hadn't just seen each other the evening before. "Let me introduce you to Señor Joaquín Hernandez Rochas, and his wife, Señora Sofía Rosales Molina."

"¡Bienvenidos!" their host said with a genial smile. "Es un placer de conocerlos."

A round of greetings commenced, with Corvus bravely trying out his limited knowledge of Spanish.

"Me ha dicho Remus que quieres practicar hablar el castellano," Señor Hernandez said afterwards with a twinkle in his eyes that almost rivalled the headmaster's.

"Intento hacerlo, por lo menos," Corvus replied, feeling incredibly unsure of himself.

"No te preocupes. Mejorarás pronto."

"Lo espero, señor."

Señor Hernandez gave him a reassuring nod, and including Snape in the sweep of his arm, switched to a slightly stilted English.

"Let me show you to your room, señores. You must want to freshen up."

Corvus fell into step with Remus as they followed their host across the courtyard. "Where are we actually, Remus?"

"A few miles east of the city of Granada. This place is partway up one of the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. It would be hard to live here for Muggles, since there's no road-connection and no access to modern facilities, but it's perfect for Wizards. Quiet, no neighbours, the most spectacular views, and it's a bit cooler in summer thanks to the elevation.

Corvus mentally reviewed the map of southern Spain Remus had shown him a couple of days ago, pointing out various possible destinations for their travels.

"You can see the mountains from your room, Corvus. And I had planned to go up there later. Apparition has its advantages, after all," Remus told him with a wink.

"That would be great. I've never seen any real mountains before."

"We will have to rectify that then. Go unpack. I will see you in a bit."

.

oOoOoOoOo

The furniture in their guest room was rather basic, but of good quality. And he loved the light, open feeling the whitewashed walls gave the room. He could see the shaded courtyard through the open doorway, and the smell coming from the flowering Oleander outside was intoxicating. He kicked of his shoes and took a few delighted barefooted steps on the smooth, cool tiles to peer out of the window in the wall opposite. He could see … mountains. Another thing he'd never seen before. So this was the Sierra Nevada, though it didn't look particularly snowy at the moment. In fact, it looked rather bare. Still … mountains!

"So … Polyjuice?" Snape asked, coming up behind him. The man sounded more curious than threatening, which was probably a good sign.

Corvus sighed and carded his hands through his hair, now restored to the proper dark curls. Huh. When had he come to accept the damn curls? He kept his gaze on the view from the window, while firmly pushing the memory of Hermione's involvement in their theft of the ingredients below the clouds in his mind.

"My second year," he admitted finally, turning around and letting his eyes meet his father's. "We were trying to find out if Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin."

"And you needed _Polyjuice_ for that?" Snape said disbelievingly.

"We may have impersonated his two side-kicks."

"You … what?"

"We used the Polyjuice to transform into Crabbe and Goyle," Corvus explained with a grimace.

"Right," his father said, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "And just how did you get your hands on the potion?"

"Hermione brewed it."

"Miss Granger managed to brew Polyjuice in her second year? Without any help?" this sounded even more disbelieving.

"Yeah."

The dark-eyed wizard muttered something under his breath that might have been 'unbelievable', before turning a very penetrating gaze on his son. Corvus recognised that look by now. As well as the faint touch against his mind. Snape was quite adept at casting a wand-less and silent Legilimens, and not above using it either.

"How did you acquire the ingredients?"

Yes, that was indeed the dreaded question. He sighed again, but returned his father's gaze firmly. He could not deny his own involvement, but Hermione's would have to stay below the clouds. Snape might suspect her, but he would find no evidence in his son's memories. Which might make him proud enough that he'd drop the matter.

"From your cupboards," he admitted frankly. "And yes, I know it was wrong. It also happened a few years ago, and it won't ever happen again."

His father's eyes narrowed dangerously, and the presence in his mind was definitely prodding at his memories now, trying to get more information. He kept it simple. This is what happened. This is what we did, and why. He pushed his convictions to the forefront of his mind. Because he didn't really regret having done it, though he knew stealing was wrong. But now ... if he ever needed stuff again, he'd just ask. Because now he finally had someone to ask for help. He shoved that belief at his father as well.

The older wizard looked quite conflicted. Finally he sighed, though he didn't stop the Legilimency probe. And Corvus let it sit there, though he could have forced it out by now.

"I should be angry with you," Snape said after a moment. "But you are right, it is in the past. And I can hardly ask you to forgive my own inexcusable behaviour, without overlooking some of yours at the same time. Would you have come to me for help, if I had not treated you so poorly?"

He considered the question carefully, frowning in thought, though he didn't break their eye-contact. "For some things, yes. For others … probably not. I don't think I'd have trusted you with being impartial where Malfoy is concerned," he admitted ruefully.

"For which I am largely to blame," Snape agreed, sounding just as rueful. "Have you ever stolen anything else, though?"

He shook his head. "No. I know you suspected me in fourth year. But that was Crouch. And well," he squirmed mentally at the half truth. "Dobby, I'm afraid. He stole the Gillyweed for me. I didn't ask him for it though. Please don't be too hard on him."

But his father shrugged that one away. "I will certainly not grudge you something you needed to get through that damn tournament. And I guess congratulations are in order, for keeping me from seeing … whatever you have kept me from seeing."

"Thanks … I guess."

"So since we are already at it, how about you push me out?"

The presence in his mind was suddenly much stronger, and would almost have gotten at the memory since he instinctively thought about it again when it was mentioned. But he'd been half expecting something like that, and just shoved even more clouds on top, before firmly wrapping up his father's probe and pushing him out altogether.

"Adequate."

Almost praise, considering the source. And he hardly had a headache at all, which was quite the consolation prize.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: For a boy who only knows a quaint English neighbourhood, a little bit of London, and a remote location in Scotland, southern Spain should appear very different and exotic indeed. And very fascinating. So I will attempt to capture some of that wonder in the next few chapters, and put in my own love and experience of the country. They literally had to drag me out of the Alhambra. I love eating Tapas in little cafes. I really like Flamenco music, which is a bit of an acquired taste, and I've even taken Flamenco lessons. I also have a sizable collection of fans, both functional and painted. And I absolutely adore botanic gardens, and all things flowery. I guess it shows.

I'm not going to translate any Spanish parts, as it's just idle conversation anyway. However, in case I ever do write anything important in Spanish, I would provide a translation. And for those who wonder why the couple have different names: In Spain the wife does not take her husband's surname. The surnames of any resulting children are formed from the first parts of their parent's names. Traditionally, it was father's name first, but nowadays it can be either way.

Regarding pairings: those are still quite undecided, and at this point all I will say is this: Slash is highly unlikely to occur. Not because I don't like it, but because I don't think I could write it well. But my 'has to happen' list for the rest of the summer is still horribly long, so it will be many chapters before Corvus even goes to Hogwarts and meets any likely prospects. I'll just have to wait and see who introduces themselves then. I found that the characters tend to have a life of their own at times.

And finally many thanks for all those lovely reviews! And the kind words. They are very much appreciated! They were very helpful, too, for figuring out what I'm going to do regarding the wand and the Patronus. I'm not going to say just yet what I've decided on, but the wand will definitely have a local touch. And the Patronus will be a bird, but not a dove. I'm also very sorry for not updating sooner, but my muse totally went on strike. It finally took putting the (admittedly rather hypnotic) piano version of 'La Pared' by Shakira on autorepeat for _hours_ for her to get back to work. Don't ask me how that works, for I don't really understand it myself. However, I found afterwards that my muse also seems to like ThePianoGuys, which is a blessing. Variety is a good thing, after all.


	17. Las Montañas y el Duende

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

They both made use of a small adjacent bathroom to freshen up, visiting it in turns, and changed into clothing suitable for a day of heat. Fortunately this way Corvus was spared the awkwardness of changing in the same room as his father. It was going to be strange enough sleeping in the same room with him. He was also granted his freedom from the … blessed corset, though it came with the admonition to remember not to slouch.

Afterwards, laughter and voices talking rapidly in Spanish led them to another airy, light-filled room. There they found Remus and their two hosts unhurriedly finishing a late breakfast. When they showed up in the doorway, Señora Rosales rose with a ready smile on her lips and escorted them over to the table. She made sure her guests were comfortably ensconced in upholstered wicker chairs, pressing both hot and cold beverages on them, as well as an assortment of breakfast dishes.

Snape declined anything to eat, but accepted a cup of black coffee. Corvus opted for the same, though he added plenty of cream and sugar to his. He also helped himself to a promising looking pastry. Nibbling on it, he listened to the conversations which had started up around him. Señor Hernandez was talking animatedly with Snape in his stilted English, which also involved a fair amount of hand-waving on his part. On the other side of him, Remus was conversing quietly with Señora Rosales in Spanish. Unfortunately, they were talking much too fast, and he could only understand the occasional phrase.

When Remus noticed his attention, he exchanged a few rapid sentences with the Señora. After that it pretty much turned into a language lesson. Both of them slowed down considerably, and Corvus got gentle corrections for the mistakes he made when he finally had the nerve to participate. As the morning gradually turned into midday, his confidence grew. Yes, not everything he said turned out right. And he certainly didn't understand everything they said. But it was still real conversation. Given that he had less than a week of language lessons, it was downright amazing. He had to thank his night-time tapes for most of it, of course.

Eventually they were interrupted by the arrival of lunch. A pair of house-elves brought in a variety of dishes which they arranged in the middle of the table, for everyone to serve themselves. Most of the dishes were totally new to Corvus, and garlic seemed to be a defining note in quite a few of them. Not everything was to his taste, but he discovered several new favourites, and took care to ask for their names. The meal was served with watered wine and chilled fruit-juice, as well as jugs of delightfully fresh water with ice-cubes swimming in them.

Afterwards he was introduced to the concept of holding Siesta. At first the idea of taking a nap after lunch felt decidedly odd to him. At home, that's what little kids were supposed to do. Yet here all the adults were doing so as well. And he had to admit it made sense to rest during the worst heat of the day. Not that the house was hot at all. This was definitely an area where Wizards had a huge advantage. Climate control could simply never rival the comfortable temperatures created by charms. But Remus pointed out they planned on staying up quite late, and that they didn't want to traipse about outside in the heat. So nap-time it was.

Or rather, Siesta.

.

oOoOoOoOo

It was later in the afternoon, when the shadows started to lengthen and the sun stood lower in the sky, when they finally set out towards the Sierra Nevada. He filled his mind with clouds and the feeling of floating before Remus used side-along apparition to take them up much higher than he'd ever been. Once again, it helped keep him from feeling sick, though he still lost his balance. But as soon as he felt steady enough, he took a look around. The view that met his eyes was simply marvellous. There was nothing but mountains around them, rising up majestic and unyielding. There was so much stone, and sheer faces.

What vegetation made it up here was obviously used to inhospitable circumstances, and clung close to the ground. But mostly there were rocks. And more rocks. And dizzying heights. As he looked around, he spotted some bird of prey glide across the immense blue sky on wide-spread wings. Below them was the start of a scraggly forest, which grew denser the lower it got. Remus had apparently taken them well above the tree-line. It was certainly worth it. The view up here was breathtaking. Absolutely magnificent.

"We should not stay up here for long, unfortunately. Or altitude sickness is a possibility since we came up here without acclimatising," Remus said apologetically. "So take a good look around, and then we'll go lower again and pop about a bit."

He smiled at seeing the teenager look almost entranced. "Great, isn't it? I always come up here when I visit with the family."

Corvus certainly didn't know where to look first. It was all so amazing. And the air was so pure, though he found the need to take deep breaths.

"Have you ever been up here at night? The sky must be terrific," he asked, filling his eyes with the panorama around them.

"Hmm, no. I really should do that, I guess. It's even better with snow, though. It is very beautiful when it's all white."

"Maybe we can arrange for a visit over the Christmas holidays," Snape suggested. The man had been looking around with almost the same expression as his son, though he was not as obvious about his enjoyment.

"It certainly would not appear strange for Corvus to want to visit his 'old' family. And Señor Hernandez and his wife seem to have taken quite a shine to the two of you. I'm sure we could arrange something," Remus agreed, reaching out a hand to steady Corvus, who was beginning to feel a little dizzy. "Right. Let's drop lower. We can go back higher for another look around before we leave. But the height can get to you when you're not used to it. And the air is rather thin, so … "

"Clouds, I know," Corvus said, taking hold of Remus' arm firmly. Though he was feeling all floaty anyway. "I wish I could go flying up here."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I would recommend that. The air has less resistance, so you might get some really crazy speed out of a broom. But if you fall of for any reason ... well, it's a long way down here."

"Ugh, yes. I think I'm ready, Remus."

This time he did feel momentarily sick when they reappeared, but he got over that quickly. Because they had landed at another beautiful spot, where a small lake was surrounded by a meadow on one side, and forests on the other. Mountains rose around them. Insects buzzed about small flowers growing amongst tough grasses. The only word to describe the scene was idyllic. Or maybe unspoiled. Tranquil even.

He sank down onto a clump of grasses, taking in the clear water of the lake. It was so still he could see the mountains reflected on the surface. The sun was shining warmly on his face, and there was a soft breeze. And it was all perfect.

It was even more perfect when Remus and his father sat down next to him, the latter appearing quite relaxed and remarkably happy. He must have felt Corvus' eyes on him, because he turned towards his son and actually smiled at him. But this place had a magic of its own. It made you want to stay there. Forget about everything troublesome and worrying. Smile at people.

"You certainly know how to pick the picturesque spots, Remus."

"I'm glad you approve, Severus," Remus replied to the other's comment with a chuckle. "And I've got a few more to go. So as much as I believe everybody would like to stay here ..."

"Just a few more minutes, please," Corvus pleaded, closing his eyes and turning his face into the sunlight. Soaking it all up. The light breeze, the gentle lapping of the water against the lake-shore, the humming of insects. The incredible peace.

He heard Remus chuckle again. "I suppose we have a few minutes. Especially since both you and your father look like the cat that fell into the cream."

"We do not," Snape objected with great dignity. "It is simply a delightful location. With the additional bonus of being entirely free of mush-brained students, murderous Dark Lords and their minions, twinkly-eyed headmasters or annoying colleagues."

"So what are Corvus and me then?" Remus asked with laughter in his voice.

"Corvus is my son, of course. And you are an annoying _ex-colleague_," Snape pointed out.

He opened one eye to peek at his father, and saw the man smirking happily.

"Tell me again why I put up with your snark and sarcasm?"

"Because you actually enjoy it?"

Corvus had now opened both eyes and was looking between the two men on either side of him. It felt a bit like watching a ball-game.

"Curses. You have discovered my deep and dark secret, I fear."

"Hah! I knew it. We shall yet corrupt your foolish Gryffindorishness."

"We?"

"Meet my new assistant," Snape said, airily waving an elegant hand at his son. "If he can overcome that horrible taint, then surely you can, too."

"Actually, if he can manage to get _you_ to start joking … he must be quite the miracle-worker."

"That was low, wolf. I have a very refined sense of humour, I will have you know."

"One merely needs a deep-mining operation to find it, you mean?"

Corvus leaned back on his elbows, closed his eyes again, and listened to the two of them happily banter on. Because sarcasm actually could be fun, when it wasn't used with the intention to hurt. And he thought they had a lot more in common than was apparent on first glance. They had all been rather lonely, for one thing, and struggling with people's prejudices. They were now also the only ones left of the unfortunate drama that had revolved around the Marauders.

Friendship could start in the oddest places, and under the strangest circumstances. Just like some plants actually needed the shock of frost or fire to set their seeds free to grow. What a pity it had taken the shock of finding out about his real parentage, and working together for his sake, for them to discover they could be friends.

But better late than never.

.

oOoOoOoOo

They did visit several more idyllic spots before they had to go back. Corvus' favourite was a waterfall thundering down a sheer cliff-side. It was utterly fascinating watching the spray form delicate lacy curtains made of falling droplets. And looking into the pool at the foot of the fall, where the waters churned and created constantly changing patterns of bubbles, was almost hypnotic. He'd been very reluctant to leave, and determined that he wanted to return some day. The waterfall would probably look even better when it was half-frozen, and surrounded by trees covered in delicate frost.

He decided that Corvus Black would really like a Christmas holiday back home …

After their return, he received a short first lesson on apparition in the courtyard. Which included a lecture on safety and all the things not to do, such as leaving parts of yourself behind.

Which was not exactly reassuring.

His first attempts did not meet with any success, though he had the feeling he'd come close towards the end. A sensation of shifting and squeezing had taken hold of him, but his mind was too afraid to let go and let him follow through. His two teachers didn't seem disappointed with his failure though, and merely assigned him exercises in visualising and feeling his whole body.

Right. Don't leave parts of yourself behind.

And then his father wanted him to try the Patronus messenger spell. As the man pointed out, they were far from anything he knew, and it would make a good way for Corvus to contact them in case he got separated.

Finding a good memory was easy enough after the last few hours. And he'd practised the wand-movements so often, he doubted he could ever forget them. But when he spoke the incantation, trying to concentrate on his desire to send a message, all he got was a kind of fog. Really dense fog. There was a decided lack of stag, though.

So he tried again. And again, with old memories that used to work perfectly fine. But all he got was fog.

"You are using a memory that is happy enough?" his father asked. He'd taken a seat on one of the stone-benches around the olive-tree and was twirling a sprig of lavender between his fingers.

"I tried several."

"Hmm. Your pronunciation is correct. And you could probably do the movement right in your sleep, eh?" Remus commented, tilting his head sideways. "The desire to send a message should not make that much of a difference to cause you to fail, either."

"Cast your normal Patronus," Snape ordered, suddenly leaning forward intently.

He tried that. He'd done it so often, demonstrating for the DA, that he really shouldn't have failed. He looked at the result in dismay.

"Well. It is really dense mist. One could almost say ... corporeal mist. Maybe … it could be changing," Remus said slowly.

"You know it can happen," his father said softly, sounding melancholy. "Mine did."

"You mean I'm not simply failing?"

It was a relief, and a disappointment at the same time. He'd gotten quite used to his proud stag. But it appeared that Prongs had gone the way of the Potters. No longer his. But not tarnished. Hopefully just … changing.

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair. There was a sad note in his voice. "No. It's probably because you no longer think of Prongs as your father. And therefore he is no longer your protector."

"But why is it just fog now?"

"Perhaps because at the moment you are unsure of a lot of things, and settling into a new persona? I don't know if you realise how much you've changed over the last few days. And as you are … evolving, so is your Patronus. That would be my guess, anyway," the werewolf tried to explain.

Corvus felt uneasy. "Am I so very different already?"

"Your behaviour certainly is. And surely you feel different about some people?"

He could only nod in agreement with his father's words, meeting his dark gaze. Yes, he was still the same inside. But the mask he was developing now wasn't the same at all. He also felt unsure and guilty about James Potter, so how could the man's animagus form still be his protector spirit? He didn't like the explanation, but it made sense.

"How long will it take? And will I really get a new one?" he asked, feeling dejected. Being able to cast a corporeal Patronus at thirteen had been one of the few accomplishments that were undeniably his own. One of the few things he was honestly proud of.

Snape shook his head, not breaking their eye-contact. "I honestly have no idea. Mine changed … rather abruptly. But the circumstances were different. You will simply have to wait and see what it turns into."

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about anyone seeing the stag and making the connection to Harry Potter," Corvus said finally, trying to find the silver lining. And not think about the disappointment he would feel in case he never got a new one.

"There is that," Remus agreed. "I was going to teach you how to hide the form, which is possible to do. However, to lift the gloomy spirit which seems to have overtaken us, might I remind you we have a fiesta to look forward to? So how about we get changed, gentlemen, and you get yourself all glamoured up?"

.

oOoOoOoOo

And so they did. Both father and son were subtly changed to look more Spanish. Which took remarkably little effort, just as Dumbledore had suggested. The addition of a tan to their naturally dark eyes and hair ensured they would blend in easily. And with just a few minor alterations to their features, they became quite unrecognisable.

Their hosts took them to a secluded location on the outskirts of Granada, where the night was lightened by several bonfires. Apparently it was a mixed gathering of Gitanos, who seemed quite unconcerned about magic, and wizard-folk. They found themselves on a hillside overlooking the city, which gleamed with countless lights. Overhead was a lovely night-sky, though it was at times obscured by the bonfires belching up clouds of sparks and smoke.

It was an enchanting evening. There was music, mostly guitar players accompanied by a weird kind of drum which looked like a box the drummer actually sat on. It also involved a great deal of rhythmic clapping and enthusiastic shouting, which seemed to be part of the music. Several different singers performed. The singing frequently had a strong wailing element to it, and the guitar rhythms were strange and tended to meander. Altogether Corvus found the music interesting, but a bit of an acquired taste.

There were also dancers, mostly women wearing long, flounced skirts, which twirled and moved around their legs as the dancers stomped and gracefully moved their arms about. Flamenco turned out to be a very dramatic dance, and the stomping blended seamlessly with the percussion and clapping. You could literally _hear_ the dancing. He saw flashes of metal when they lifted their heels, and Remus explained that the shoes had lots of little nails in the heels and toes to make each step sound so loud and clear.

The dance was proud, and elegant, and very different from anything he knew, mostly thanks to the stomping. Which was all the more pronounced when a group performed together, perfectly synchronised. It wasn't all stomping, though, but also a lot of graceful movements and waving of arms and even fans and shawls. And yet there were also moments when the dance seemed oddly ... rude as well.

The most striking performance was one of the women dancing solo, without even music, the melody created only by the rapid movements of her feet. Some of the rhythms sounded sad, some were happy, and some seemed angry and bitter. At times the dancing was languid, with slow, unhurried movements … until it descended into a frenzy of stomping feet and clapping again.

And somehow the dancing and music helped him understand … pride. A different kind of pride.

Because the music carried a strong element of something he recognised, something ... tormented. And at times there was something almost painful in the dancer's movements. It appeared to be all about expressionof feelings. And most feelings were _not_ happy. A lot of human experience was suffering of some kind. But you could suffer in silence, and let it eat at you. Which was what he had really been doing so far. Or you could express it, and turn it into strength. Into pride.

This was not the kind of pride which came from feeling superior. Nor was it pride of one's accomplishments. This was something that originated in having _endured_. Having survived. Having overcome. He certainly had plenty of experience with that. It was a kind of pride he could actually understand.

To some extent it also involved simply not giving a damn about the opinion of others. Especially if those others were people he didn't actually care about. Something he wouldn't mind being able to do, in all honesty. Too much of his life had been wasted in futile attempts to get people to like him. But either they would by themselves … or he could really do without. It was probably another remnant of his childhood of being … unwanted. The unconscious desire to please, in the hope of being accepted.

The dance was also very … controlled. Precise. And yet it was very lively and intense. At the same time.

It seemed to him that a great deal of the intensity came from the control, and the precision of movement. Many of the dancers had exuded a great deal of force of personality. Their movements had been pure ... expressiveness. But the emotions they expressed felt … condensed. Distilled into something both stronger and more manageable.

Which in turn showed him that you could express emotions without losing control. That you could display your feelings without being weak. The emotions just had to be under your control, rather than the other way around. Rule your emotions, instead of letting them rule you.

Temper that flared up uncontrollably … led to pointless conflict. Pain that lashed out wildly … might easily hurt the wrong target. Even positive emotions and affection could cause problems, when they led you to do something hasty or foolish.

He'd certainly gotten a demonstration of that all too recently.

But emotion which was controlled, and directed … was a source of strength.

Which was all the more true in magic. There were after all spells that were directly affected by the strength of the emotion behind it. Like the Patronus.

Or the Cruciatus. Though he didn't particularly want to dwell on that one.

He would have to think more about all this. Though thinking was perhaps the wrong word for something which seemed to be all about _feeling_. It was certainly hard to put into any words that made sense. But it had touched something in him, and he was sure there was a lesson to be learned from this. Or multiple lessons, actually. Yes, definitely something he would have to ponder further.

It was a very contemplative Corvus Black that left the gathering.

.

oOoOoOoOo

To his surprise he got his usual language tape for the night. Remus showed up in their room shortly after they returned from their outing. Snape, who was just heading into the bathroom, paused in the doorway, giving the werewolf a questioning look.

"Did you need anything, Remus?"

"I have got something for Corvus, actually, so don't let me delay you, please."

His father appeared mildly curious, but merely gave an elegant shrug and continued into the bathroom without comment, closing the door behind him. Corvus looked at Remus expectantly.

"Here. I organised this earlier. It looks to be working just fine, so you don't have to stop your tapes."

It was a walk-man. He saw them often enough, when Dudley and his friends hung out together, occasionally sharing head-phones to listen to each other's favourites. It was merely another gadget he was not allowed anywhere near. Not that it mattered to him anymore at that point. By then it was … normal. Dudley got stuff. All the newest, and the best, and when it broke, he simply got the next model. Harry counted himself lucky if the breakage wasn't blamed on him. He took the device from Remus, putting on the headphones. Remus pressed the button to start it running.

Spanish vocabulary filled his ears, though the acoustic with headphones was … different. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was almost as if the speaker was talking directly in his head.

"It's … more intense. Hopefully it's not too much with the charm?" he voiced his concern, shifting the head-phones a bit to find a more comfortable fit.

"Hmm. Let's just try it," Remus said, casually casting the now familiar charm. It wasn't really that much worse, especially once he adjusted the volume. He nodded at the older man, who smiled and waved a hand in good-night.

Shortly afterwards Snape came back from the bath-room, and Corvus was not particularly surprised to discover his father even wore black pyjamas. Still … pyjamas. He was seeing Snape in his nightclothes. He was sleeping in the same room as his father. Which was strange, though there wasn't anything unnatural about a father sharing a room with his son. Or at least there shouldn't be.

Maybe it was the odd look on Corvus' face that drew his father over. Or seeing the headphones. In any case the wizard came over to his son's bed to look down at him. He seemed slightly puzzled, until Corvus lifted the walk-man up for his father to see, slipping off the headphones so he'd be able to hear. Snape's puzzled expression instantly vanished. It was clear he recognised the device. Which was unusual for a wizard, until Corvus remembered the Muggle father. Right. For all that Snape always seemed the epitome of Wizard, he clearly kept a foot in the Muggle world, too.

"Ah. Quite ingenious. I really ought to congratulate the wolf on his excellent ideas," Snape said, patting Corvus' shoulder lightly before returning to his own bed. A swish of his wand put out the lamps. A creak and rustling of bed-clothes told Corvus his father had settled into bed.

"Good night, son of mine."

"Good night, … father."

The word still didn't feel right. It was simply too stiff. Just as he would have felt odd about Snape calling him 'son'. That 'son of mine' the man had started using was okay though. It made him feel … claimed. Wanted. Connected. He slipped the head-phones back onto his ears. Vague thoughts about the power of words and finding the right ones were on his mind as he drifted into sleep, his head filled with Spanish words and Flamenco dancers whirling and stomping and gracefully moving their arms about.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Like many of his nightmares, it began with a visit to the graveyard. And Cedric dying. As usual, the worst aspect was the helpless feeling strangling him as Voldemort had Wormtail dispose of 'the spare' so casually. Which moulded seamlessly into the equally helpless feeling of watching Sirius topple through the veil in slow-motion, while … his mother cackled insanely in perverted pleasure.

He wasn't prepared at all for the next part. To seeing both Bellatrix and Voldemort raise their wands to a bound, obviously tortured Snape, intoning 'kill the traitor' in a hideous chorus. The light filling his vision next was the all too familiar hated green of the killing curse. A scream was clawing at his throat, but it was as if he'd been petrified. Once again all he could do was watch helplessly as his father's body slumped lifelessly. He felt like suffocating in this feeling of helplessness. To only be able to watch as others died. Not able to do anything to save them. Again and again.

But then hands were shaking him, and a voice was calling his name, sounding concerned.

The voice of his father, whom he'd just seen killed … in a dream. Just a nightmare. It wasn't real. He gave a sob of relief and sagged gratefully against the arms holding him now. He felt utterly exhausted. He was also shivering badly. Snape simply held him, occasionally rubbing his back, as Harry gradually relaxed and calmed down. After some time his breathing was slow and regular again, and he could hear his father's heartbeat. Not dead. Not killed. Still alive.

"Did you remember to do your Occlumency exercises before sleep?" Snape finally asked.

Harry stirred at that, suddenly feeling guilty. His father released him and he sat up, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"No," he admitted with a weary sigh. "I was … I didn't think about it. I guess I got distracted by … yesterday," he added, looking into his father's dark eyes. They were like pools of darkness against the man's pale skin. It was about all he could make out in the faint starlight coming through the open windows.

"I see. I shall have to make sure you remember about them, if we cannot rely on you to do so," Snape said, sounding rather stern. Harry winced at the obvious displeasure in his voice.

"I'm sorry," he said, hanging his head and pulling at his hair. He'd also forgotten to tie his curls back, which meant he would have a lot of tangles to brush through in the morning.

He heard his father sigh. "I dare say you have been punished enough by your own nightmare."

He gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah. Well at least we now know the exercises do help. I haven't had one since I started doing them."

"Indeed. But they need to become automatic," his father admonished sharply.

"I know! But it's been like … a week," Harry protested.

"Yes. Which is why you are getting away with help and a bit of scolding."

"Oh. All right."

"Forget next month, however ..."

"I'll be scrubbing cauldrons for a week?"

"At least." He could tell his father was amused. "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

"Uhm."

He didn't think he could. But maybe he could let the other man _see_. That seemed easier than talking about it. He wasn't used to talking about his problems. Or his frequent nightmares. The words always got stuck in his throat, and he felt horribly embarrassed. But by now he was quite used to having Snape in his memories.

"Do you maybe … want to see it?"

That earned him a penetrating gaze. But his father only got up wordlessly and came back with a glass of cold water a minute later. Harry drank it gratefully, clutching the glass carefully. His hands were still trembling a bit. Snape put the glass aside, and took Harry's hands into his. Of course he had noticed the trembling. Now that the man was finally paying proper attention to … his son, very little seemed to escape his notice. What a pity they couldn't have discovered this years ago.

"All right. Show me."

So he did, dragging the memory of his dream to the forefront of his mind. Afterwards, the presence withdrew as gently as it had entered.

"You are afraid I will die and abandon you, too."

"No," he denied automatically. He didn't want his father to think he was clinging.

"Yes."

Harry sighed and let his eyes drop again. Snape let go of his hands, and pulled Harry into a hug instead. He froze. Why did he have to be so damn insecure?

"Silly boy. I will not. I have no intention to die. None at all."

"So you plan to survive after all?"

The answer was almost growled into his curls. "Yes."

"Promise?"

"I will make you a deal."

"What deal?"

"I promise not to die on you, but in return I want grandchildren."

"What? I don't even have a girlfriend!"

"No pressure, son of mine."

"Oh, that's rich. So can I get a stepmother?"

"Now _that_ is evil."

"I learned from the best."

He heard a sigh, and then his father's hands gently pushed him back down onto his pillow. Tucked the blankets around him, and patted him on his head.

"Time to go back to sleep. Now … think of clouds."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus watched the teenager fall asleep again.

"Son of mine," he whispered, shaking his head ruefully.

If anyone had told him a couple of weeks ago what was going to happen, he would never have believed it. He found himself smiling proudly as he watched his son settle deeper into sleep, turning over and clutching the blanket to him. That night had truly turned everything on its head. Thankfully. He firmly squashed the stirrings of regret which always wanted to well up when he was watching the boy. Regret for the wasted years. Regret for his own blindness. Regret for the pain he had caused unnecessarily.

Because even if the boy had not turned out to be his son, there would have been so much worthwhile to discover in him. And Severus had so stubbornly refused to see it.

He still wished Lily had been the boy's mother, instead of that accursed bitch Bellatrix, but … then he wouldn't be a Black. Which was turning out to be quite important, somehow. Because it gave the boy quite a bit of family. And surprisingly so much support. Much more so than Lily's family had ever done.

And Corvus had apparently managed to come away with her good qualities. That fierceness of spirit. The devotion. The loyalty. That … attractiveness the woman had before she went insane. The charisma which was increasingly showing itself in Corvus as his self-confidence grew. All of which had become so warped in her. He suddenly smiled vindictively.

"I promise you," he whispered into the still night, where the only sound was the occasional chirping of crickets outside. "I swear, I will keep him on the right path. And every trace of you that he bears, which in you became corrupted and warped, I will help him keep as it should have been in you."

Because Bellatrix was beyond redemption. But what she should have been, the Black she could have been, would live on in her son, however unwillingly he had been born. However twisted the circumstances of his conception and birth might have been. As Phineas had said … innocence and purity were two different things. Despite his heritage Corvus had started out innocent enough. And everything the boy had endured afterwards had only served to purify him.

"Toujours pur," he murmured with a wry smile on his lips. "Yes. We shall keep him pure."

To redeem her line, and spite her at the same time. What a most fitting revenge. And quite Slytherin, too. Her ancestors would have been pleased.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I was watching a lot of videos about flamenco dancing, Granada and the landscape of the Sierra Nevada while writing this chapter, and didn't this bring back sentimental memories of a couple of summers spent in Andalusia. I confess I rather struggled with the flamenco part, as it is not easy to do the dance justice. I also invite anyone interested to read up on the concept of 'el duende', which is the spirit of expressiveness and emotion in art, generated from experiences and hardship. And damn hard to properly put into words.

I'm afraid once again things are taking longer than I had planned. But there is always something else that somehow needs to happen, or would fit in nicely at that point, and then the characters want to have a conversation and so on. So we'll be in Spain for a few chapters more. But this story is simply more about character interaction and growth than actual events happening. Though I promise I _do_ have a plot. I even have a time-line all worked out for it! I just need to actually get there. *gives her lackadaisical muse the death-glare.

And finally, as always, many thanks for the reviews! And a huge thank you for all those who tell me they really like my story. It's that kind of thing which keeps a writer motivated. Writing is quite satisfying in itself, but without someone to eventually read, and hopefully enjoy it … there would definitely be something lacking.

Oh, and in case anyone feels that Snape is a bit OOC here … this is Snape on holiday! Where absolutely no-one knows him aside from two people he can get along with pretty well by now. I think he explained the rest himself.


	18. The Power of Imagination

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

In the morning Harry felt a bit embarrassed by the memory of clinging to his father like a limpet. Admittedly, it had been nice and reassuring after that horrible nightmare. And he hadn't been the one to initiate the contact. He also remembered Snape's request for grandchildren. Which added to his embarrassment, but was also something … strangely normal. Something most parents reputedly wanted from their children. It gave him hope there could actually be a _normal_ _afterwards_ for them.

He also found it surprisingly easy to imagine the stern man surrounded by little dark-haired kids.

Fortunately Snape didn't mention the night-time disruption in the morning, though he swept his eyes over his son as if to reassure himself he was alright. Otherwise he just gave Harry a nod and a faint smile as he settled down for breakfast at his father's side.

"So what are we doing today?" Harry asked as he inspected the various dishes set out for breakfast, choosing a mixture of the known and the unknown.

"Today we get to play tourists for a while," Remus told him with obvious good humour. "Catch!"

And he tossed a pair of sunglasses at Harry, who caught them reflexively. He put them on straight away, smirking back at the older man.

"We are going into Granada, to visit the Alhambra. We will head out as soon as you finish breakfast so we can avoid the heavier crowds later. And the worst heat as well, of course."

"Sounds good," he commented, taking a sip of his coffee. "And later?"

"I plan to have us lunch in town. Afterwards it's back here though, for some practical work."

Harry made a face at that, but merely continued chewing on the cream filled pastry he'd picked.

"We told you this trip was not going to be all holidays, Corvus," his father pointed out collectedly, folding his napkin and laying it on top of his plate. "I also wish to try something different with your Occlumency in the evening. Your trigger is well and good, and serves quite admirably, but I am somewhat concerned it may be a bit too … volatile in some situations."

"Could that be a problem?"

Snape waved a hand dismissively. "Not necessarily. But since you can imagine so clearly, it should conceivably be quite easy to add another layer underneath the clouds which is more … grounded. Since you appear so fond of growing things, we might as well utilise that circumstance."

Harry nodded in agreement, taking another sip of his coffee. "Yeah. I suppose I am."

"So we will make good use of it. There are many ways you could involve plants in your mental protections. Like a maze of growing hedges around your memories, or brambles and thorns to ensnare an invader. And something deep-rooted to give you anchorage."

All good suggestions. He would think about this. He nodded again, to show his understanding, and got busy with finishing his breakfast. He could hardly wait to be something normal like a _tourist_ for once.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Visiting the Alhambra was a wonderful experience. Mostly this was due to the exquisite and enchanting Moorish architecture. The richness of detail and the intricacy of the carvings which covered virtually every surface was simply amazing. Frequently it looked like lace made out of stone. And the builders had not stopped at the walls. Slender columns seemed almost too delicately sculptured to hold up archways and ceilings dripping with carvings. Everything was made even more exotic by the flowing Arabic scriptures appearing all over. Combined with the grandiose atmosphere, and the feeling of sheer age which pervaded the buildings, it was all quite overwhelming.

Yet it was not only the architecture that was impressive. There were also lovely gardens in the courtyards, often surrounding pools of water which reflected the carved walls rising around them. Some of them held fountains that filled the air with sparkling drops of falling water. Dense hedges appeared almost hewn out of the greenery. Trees offered shade between the buildings, and he could see more looking down from the walls. Which also offered a splendid view over the city of Granada.

There was so much to see, and far too little time to see everything. He certainly gained an appreciation for why people would travel far to visit places like this one.

But the other part of the experience was the simple fact that he was just a tourist here. Just some normal guy, and not a stupid celebrity. He was simply part of the big-eyed masses, looking awestruck at the sights. One of many clutching a guide-book, or taking pictures. Just a kid with sunglasses and a delighted expression, if admittedly better dressed than most. Here to gawk and stare along with the other tourists. Pointing out things to his father, who also appeared rather taken with his surroundings, while his … uncle … godfather… cousin gave low-voiced explanations.

Because really, what _was_ Remus to him? He was definitely more than 'just' a former teacher. If he hadn't been a werewolf, the Potters would likely have made him Harry's godfather as well. In many ways he provided an additional parental figure for Corvus now. Not exactly a fatherly one, but rather … avuncular. Yes, Remus fit quite well into the mould of the helpful and cool uncle. And if Dora's blushes and the fond looks Remus gave the young Auror were anything to go by, he might well be heading into cousin-by-marriage territory eventually.

But whatever it was exactly, Corvus would take it. And maybe with time he could give something back as well.

Because Remus had lived far too long without friends or family, too.

Much too soon they had to leave, and afterwards they wandered for a bit through the old town-centre of Granada. It had gotten rather hot by now, and Corvus fanned himself with his guide-book. Remus pointed out several interesting land-marks as they strolled through the narrow streets. They found a shop selling painted fans and embroidered shawls, and Corvus ended up buying several of each. Not only would they serve as perfect guest-gifts for people like Mrs. Weasley or his aunt Andromeda, but they would also make for nice decorations on the walls.

Finally all of them were too foot-sore and too hungry to keep going. They ended up in a small café, with tables outside in the shade of an awning, and Remus ordered a wide selection of Tapas for them.

"You can't visit Spain without eating Tapas at least once," he explained with a smile. "And of course, Corvus should know all about them," he added with a wink.

Corvus looked doubtfully at the array of small plates bearing unfamiliar dishes, though he thought he recognised some of them from yesterday.

"What is all that?"

Remus laughed at his expression. "Just try things out. There is dozens of different Tapas. If you find something you like, we can order more of it."

Well, it was all part of the Spanish experience. And some of the stuff was really tasty, too.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Attempt to _imagine_ yourself over there," Snape suggested after a frustrating twenty minutes of Corvus failing to convince his brain to let him apparate. "Keep part of your mind on the way your body feels, but fill the rest with what you would see if you were in the new location."

"That's not really how it's meant to work, though?"

It was just the two of them in the courtyard. Snape thought an audience would not be helpful, and Remus had to sort out something about their next destination anyway. Corvus felt a bit sad they'd be leaving tomorrow. He really liked it here. But maybe they would be able to come back … someday. Maybe even for Christmas.

"No, otherwise we would not be able to apparate to any location we do not know perfectly. However, it might help your mind overcome the reluctance to let go, since at the moment you can see precisely where you are going."

"All right," Corvus agreed, studying the courtyard in front of him. He thought intently on what he would see if he was closer to that Oleander, how things would be sideways to him that were now in front. At the same time he tried to feel his whole body … and then imagined how this body would feel if it was _over there_. He wanted to go there. He needed his magic to move him from here … to the destination held in his mind. And he wanted to be there _now_. He imagined reaching for his magic, and tugging himself towards the spot he wanted to be in.

When the squeezing feeling took hold of him, he clung hard to the determination to get to his destination. It was all highly uncomfortable, and unlike with side-along apparition, he was not just a passive passenger. He was the one doing the moving. So he needed to keep his mind on the target, while holding himself together. And for all that apparition was pretty much instant … it felt like forever as his mind rebelled against being in two spots virtually at the same time. While his body was contracted into nothingness for a moment, bypassing space itself.

Which was probably the reason why he fell to his knees in the next instance, feeling incredibly sick. He struggled against the need to throw up for several long moments, taking deep breaths. Trying to convince his brain he was fine. And all in one place, too.

"Once again you manage to surprise me," Snape's voice brought his attention back to his surroundings. He looked up at his father who was walking up to him, wearing a … proud expression.

"Oh?" was all he managed, still fighting to keep his lunch where it belonged. When a fresh wave of dizziness washed over him, he let gravity take over and sat down on the terracotta tiles. They were nicely solid and warmed by the sun, and reassuringly unmoving.

"Well, you succeeded quite fast. Most people need several lessons to pick it up, and some never manage at all."

The pride had now made it into his father's voice, too. Which gave Corvus a lovely warm glow inside. It also made him feel rather self-conscious.

"Oh. That's … good? But I don't know if I can manage to think of clouds on top of that," he complained to cover his discomfort at the praise. "I don't fancy feeling so dizzy and sick every time."

Snape gave his son a measuring look and reached down a hand to help him up.

"Keeping your body together will become automatic with practise. Aside from that, one does get used to the sensation with time," he pointed out as Corvus scrambled to his feet. "Meanwhile you could try to add a feeling of … being cushioned by clouds?"

"Hmm," he made a vague sound of agreement, already trying out that mental image. His body, whole and complete and undivided, surrounded and protected by fluffy clouds. Unexpectedly, this gave him a feeling of both safety and confidence. He looked ahead again, imagining himself standing in that new spot, perfectly enveloped in white. Once he had the picture firmly fixed in his mind, he mentally reached for his magic and pulled himself to where he wanted to be.

There was a noticeable difference. Yes, it was still uncomfortable. Yes, his brain and body still didn't like circumventing space. But they put up much less of a fight, and the layer of clouds seemed to dampen all the nasty sensations. This time he didn't even fall over, though he had to spread his arms out to keep his balance. And he didn't feel sick at all.

"All right. Now I am even more impressed," his father said from behind him. The man actually sounded slightly stunned. What had he done now? Corvus twisted his head around carefully, not wanting to upset his still fragile balance.

"Uhm, why?"

"You appear to have discovered how to apparate without making a sound."

"Really?" He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice.

"Unless I did turn temporarily deaf, yes, _really_."

"All I did was imagine my body surrounded by a layer of clouds," he explained. "That dampened most of the discomfort."

"Apparently it also muffles the sound," Snape pointed out thoughtfully, and his face took on an expression of concentration. In the next moment he was standing on the other side of the courtyard, and there had only been the faintest of noises. The man looked back at his son and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Very faint," Corvus told him. "If there was any background noise at all, I wouldn't have heard it."

His father looked pleased at that. Corvus quite agreed with him. Because silent apparition would be very handy, especially if you wanted to sneak up on somebody or surprise them. Given his father had to continue spying for now ...

"I have to investigate this some more. But as for you … time to take things a step further. Try for our room next."

That was harder, because he couldn't directly see where he was going. He took his time to build an image of where he wanted to go, carefully wrapping himself in a protective layer of clouds. And then he reached for his magic and pulled, filling himself with the intent to be _there_.

When he walked back out from the room, feeling very pleased with himself, Remus was just coming out into the courtyard as well.

"Remus, I did it!" he exclaimed joyfully.

"Did you now?" the werewolf asked genially, smiling fondly at him.

"_And_ he managed to discover how to do so soundlessly," Snape added dryly.

"Oh? How did you do _that_?"

"Clouds, what else? Apparently mentally wrapping yourself in a layer of something … insulating serves to muffle the sound," his father explained. "Though it probably requires at least some kind of mental training."

"Well, congratulations, cub," Remus said, sounding impressed. "You picked it up really fast, too."

"Though you need to break yourself from having to strongly imagine your destination before it becomes a habit. As long as you have been there once, or have a strong … link to the place," Snape said, casting a sour look at the spot where the Dark Mark was hidden under his sleeve. "it should be sufficient."

Corvus nodded thoughtfully. Part of the whole procedure had involved the firm determination to get to his destination. So if he concentrated more on that, and less on the actual image …

He turned around so he faced the shadowed walkway, took a deep breath and mentally wrapped himself in clouds. And then he thought on the spot he'd first successfully apparated to. Which was on the other side of the courtyard, behind him. He wanted to be in _that_ spot again. By now it felt almost familiar to reach for his magic and pull himself to where he intended to be.

And then he was indeed there, trying hard not to fall over. But really, who needed balance when you had your two teachers look at you so proudly?

.

oOoOoOoOo

Afterwards the three visiting wizards were joined by Señor Hernandez in a slightly silly free-for-all duel in an orchard outside of the villa. Silly, because they mostly shot harmless hexes at each other. Yet still quite effective to improve situational awareness and using the environment, and to practise dodging and shielding spells. It was a lot of fun, and he made a mental note to include this kind of thing in case they managed to revive the DA.

However, Corvus felt winded rather sooner than he liked, and chagrined to find the three adult wizards in better form. Taking a short break, he gladly accepted a glass of cooled fruit-juice from Señora Rosales. Their hostess had shown up with a tray full of refreshments and was watching them from the sidelines with obvious amusement.

"Muchas gracias. Temo que necesito más práctica."

"Sería mejor, sí, querido," she told him with a fond smile.

Just then, his father caught Remus with a hex that made everything he said come out in coloratura, with amazing warbling high notes. Remus started laughing after hearing himself, rolling his eyes at the dark-eyed wizard when the laughter turned into girlishly high giggles. The grin on Snape's face was wicked when he first transfigured Remus' clothes into a ballerina's tutu, and then finished the werewolf off by tying him up with a lot of colourful ribbons.

Corvus found himself laughing as well, rotating his shoulders to loosen them up. It really was too silly, though that coloratura hex actually had potential. He finished his drink, handed the glass back to their hostess with a grateful smile, and rejoined the ongoing warfare. They continued for a while longer before everyone was finally too tired to go on. The prize for staying power and stamina was awarded to Remus, while Snape was declared the winner for most imaginative use of hexes. Señor Hernandez graciously conceded defeat to the other two, though it was obvious by his huge grin that the man had enjoyed himself.

Once they were back in the courtyard, Snape sat down on one of the stone-benches and beckoned his son to come sit next to him.

"I fear your mental stamina is not the only one in need of improvement," he told Corvus with a somewhat sardonic smile.

"I already figured that, yes."

"Though at least your aptitude for dodging and quick shielding, and noticing what is going on around you seems well above your age-group."

"With room for improvement?"

"Oh, certainly. Nobody is perfect, after all. But you have got good basic instincts, so with training you should become quite adept at this," Snape said, picking another sprig of lavender. "Being able to cast powerful spells is only half the battle, after all. You have to make them land, too, and avoid getting hit yourself."

Corvus nodded in agreement and tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard stone-bench.

"So you need exercise to improve that physical stamina, while Remus will continue expanding and solidifying your knowledge of spells."

"All right."

"And of course, we also have to start you on casting silently."

He rolled his eyes. "Anything else?" he asked sarcastically.

"How much would you like?" was the silky-voiced reply, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

"I know, I know. It all just seems a bit much for what little is left of the _holidays_."

"You are hardly expected to finish everything before September," Snape pointed out with a stern look. "Which is not an excuse to slack off, of course. But as you were already told, Remus is going to keep 'tutoring' you once school starts. I will also continue your training in the mental arts until you are as proficient as you can get."

"Do you really think I can be any good at it? Last year you thought I was a dismal failure," he said doubtfully.

"I believe we agreed to disregard last year? And you have two highly accomplished Occlumens as your parents … much as you want to forget about one of them," Snape added at seeing the teenager wince. "For all that she is perverted and demented, she was always quite skilled at the mind-arts. I am even more so. I refuse to think you did not inherit at least some of that talent."

Corvus gave his father an uncertain look and crossed his arms uncomfortably, pulling up his shoulders.

"The speed you are picking it up now that you have a working method should be proof enough for you," Snape pointed out, sounding irritable.

"I guess so," he agreed reluctantly. Occlumency was still a raw subject for him, even though it seemed to be progressing well now. And those clouds were turning out to be very useful indeed. If only there were not so many bad memories associated with it ...

"I also intend to teach you Legilimency once you have progressed far enough."

"Really?"

"It would give you an advantage in many situations. And the fact you were able to reverse my own spell on me indicates you should be able to learn it with relative ease."

"Uhm. How relative is that?"

Snape sighed and eyed his son with some disfavour. "Such eloquence," he said mockingly. "Truly, it will be most beneficial for you to have Phineas as a room-mate."

"May I point to the obvious: 'it has only been a week' so far, sir?" Corvus countered stiffly, looking away. He was feeling picked upon. And increasingly a bit peeved.

He could feel his father stiffen beside him. Long moments of silence were finally followed by another, rather regretful sigh. "You are right, son of mine. You do so well overall, it is easy to forget how short a time it has been."

"Thanks, I guess."

That had probably come out sounding rather more resentful than intended.

"No, you _are_ doing really well. This afternoon ought to have proven that, I should think? And we are working you hard. However, I fear patience with other people has never been my strong suit ..."

Corvus shot his father a glance. The man appeared an interesting mixture of irritation and contrition.

"But I shall do my best not to snap at you. We both share a somewhat … volatile temper. Which is best kept under wraps, since I believe neither of us wishes to regress to a state of open warfare?"

"I would much rather have peace," Corvus agreed carefully. He had gotten most of an apology _and_ a fairly big compliment from his father. And as Snape had amazingly managed to keep from back-sliding so far, he could overlook the occasional slip-up. He could also live with the demanding attitude, as long as he didn't get insulted and mocked.

"Good," his father said simply. "In that case … I suspect it is time to get ready for dinner."

Dinner sounded good. He'd worked up quite an appetite during the afternoon.

.

oOoOoOoOo

After dinner they returned to the courtyard, which was only dimly illuminated by the stars and the waning half-moon. This light was then augmented by softly glowing spheres of light made to float at roof-level. The three had brought cushions to sit on, and Snape led them through a breathing exercise. By now Corvus found it easy to follow the directions of his father's voice. Because when that voice wasn't full of poisonous mockery and ridicule, or spoke angry, hateful words, it was very pleasant to listen to. Smooth and silky, it enveloped the listener in calm.

He would never have thought that one day Snape's voice would make him feel _safe_.

After a while he drifted on the edge of trance, waiting passively to be told what to do.

"Now. Underneath the clouds in your mind … far below or maybe even hidden inside … there is solid ground. Fertile soil. On that you can grow anything you desire. Anything you can imagine."

Corvus nodded, his eyes half-closed and his body feeling pleasantly relaxed and boneless. The night was warm and still, and very peaceful.

"And in the middle there is a hill, with a huge tree growing on it. Can you see it?"

"Hmm," he assented. There _was_ a tree. It had not been here a moment ago … and at the same time, it had always been. It felt right.

"Its roots reach down into the very bedrock. Down to where water always flows, so it will never dry out. While its crown is a shield, giving you shelter."

"Yes," he agreed. That was exactly what a tree such as this one should be like.

"This is your anchor. It will keep you grounded. If you ever feel like being swept away, it will be your point of retreat."

"All right."

"What else will you grow?"

He contemplated his mindscape for a while, watching the clouds drift serenely. Letting himself meld with it, in order to find something … instinctive. Something that spoke to him. Something that came natural.

"Roses," he said finally. "Lots of roses."

"With thorns?"

Corvus smiled dreamily. "Oh yes. And the roses are very beautiful. But what they really are, is … regret, I think."

He did not see the two older men exchange a glance. Or his father give a shrug.

"Whatever works for you, Corvus. Anything else?"

He floated around some more, feeling for the ground underneath. He frowned at what he found.

"There are creepers all over. It looks like poison ivy. Only the poison is … doubt?"

"Interesting," the smooth voice commented. "Is that all?"

"Hmm. Can't find anything else," Corvus said after a few minutes of fruitless searching.

"Well, it is a good start. You can always add to it later. For now Remus would like you to put something in."

He nodded, turning his attention to the other man when he started to speak.

"Cub, I want you to put a sun-dial on the hillside by the tree."

"Yes," he agreed again, easily picturing a polished bronze sun-dial, gleaming in the sunlight which shone through the clouds.

"But instead of numbers, on each compass-point it has one of the four runes for your hand."

They were going to do that tomorrow. He might have felt apprehensive about it, had he not been floating in a cloud of peaceful contentment. And he _liked_ those runes. But how to arrange them ...

He went over what he knew about them. Actually, it was quite obvious. Sowilo, the sun, could only go in the south. Mannaz fit well in the north, because the self was hidden inside where the sun never reached. He would put Dagaz into the east, where the sun rose to start the day, and Kenaz in the west, for the torch to illuminate the night once the sun had set. He looked at the sun-dial in approval, as each rune appeared on its compass-point.

"Done," he declared finally. Talking was always difficult in this state of trance. Or doing anything, really. Which included thinking.

"Good. Then I am going to take a look at what you have done," his father told him.

Damn. Ending the day on a headache was certainly not his favourite.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Severus slowly relaxed in the still night air, letting the soothing quiet wash over him. He had sent his son off to bed earlier, with a couple of potion vials to sort out his headache and help the boy sleep.

Well, it had been one interesting day. First Corvus had managed to learn apparition in such a short time … and then to do so _silently_. It was quite staggering. And he had considered the boy merely mediocre all those years. Of course he only had himself to blame for that misconception, always putting the boy down and disparaging him … when his son would have responded so well to praise and encouragement instead.

Of course, he had already lost part of the misconception even before learning the truth about the boy being his. When it had become obvious that instead of being pampered, he had been neglected by those damnable relatives of Lily's. That alone had shifted his views of the boy somewhat, though it would not have been enough in itself. Not with James Potter's face enraging him every time he had to look at it. But now …

Now he saw a very different face. One which did not trigger such bad memories, though there was an undeniable resemblance to Sirius Black. But it was his own eyes looking back at him out of that Black face. And he finally knew just how different from his misconceptions the boy really was, and how undeserving of the verbal abuse Severus had heaped on him. So now guilt and pride and protectiveness made an unpleasant tangle of his emotions. However, it was increasingly the good ones that were winning out. Especially when his son smiled at Severus.

Which really was a miracle, after all the bad feelings between them.

As for the additional defences the boy had planted in his mind … he winced at the unintended pun ...

'Interesting' did not do them justice. When he had entered Corvus' mind, he had found they mostly affected the viewer's emotional responses to a memory. The ivy spread doubt. Doubt of yourself, and what you were seeing. Which was truly poisonous, in an insidious sort of way. Because it was subtle enough that an unsuspecting intruder might not even notice he was being affected.

As for the regret … that had been unexpectedly painful. It had proven almost impossible for him to stay in a memory when observing it filled him with such horrible regrets. At what he had done. Or failed to do. He was rather looking forward to Albus' reaction when the headmaster next tested the boy's Occlumency. A vindictive part of his mind really hoped the old wizard would encounter Corvus' roses of regret. Because Severus was not the only one to have failed the child, and Albus surely had his own share of regrets regarding him.

Together with the apparition lesson, he could only come to one conclusion. His son not only had an excellent imagination, but also a readiness to listen to his instincts that most people lacked. And the boy always had worked best under pressure, when it was a matter of trusting to those instincts or fail. Maybe they were doing the children a disservice when they taught them structure, and to listen to what adults said instead of their own instincts.

Or course, there was a great difference between wilfulness and instinct. And many situations demanded adherence to rules and to refrain from impulsiveness. Certainly a potions laboratory was a place which required order and discipline. Though he had to admit even there new discoveries were usually sparked by listening to inspiration. But before you experimented with the new, you needed a solid grasp on what you were doing. Accidents while brewing were simply too dangerous to risk fooling around.

Yet this did not necessarily apply to other areas. And were they not trying to show Corvus that knowing spells was only half the picture, and imagination in using them the other? It was a matter of finding the delicate balance between instinct and learned, orderly responses.

Unfortunately, you could not really _teach_ that balance. You could only encourage others to find it by themselves, and nurture positive developments. And prune away growths that were going in the wrong direction. He snorted in amusement. The boy's gardening proclivities were clearly starting to … grow on him.

.

oOoOoOoOo

The eastern sky was starting to lighten up. The still invisible sun was slowly kissing the sky awake. Once again the three British wizards had gathered in the quiet courtyard, to greet the rising sun. Harry felt both elated and utterly terrified. He was finally going to change the scar on his hand … but he really did not want to think about the means he would use to do so.

He recalled the moment yesterday after the Occlumency session, when Remus had taken out a wrapped bundle and put it in front of the younger wizard. He'd prodded it cautiously, looking at the werewolf questioningly.

"Open it," the man said, sounding surprisingly harsh. When Corvus looked at his father, Snape simply nodded in confirmation, appearing oddly sorrowful.

So he unwrapped it. He felt his breath catch in horror as an all too familiar quill rolled out onto the terracotta tiles.

"No!" he protested. He wanted to run away. He wanted to destroy the vile thing. He certainly didn't want to sit there, looking at Umbridge's horrible blood quill.

Remus sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at them. "I am very sorry. But the absolute best way to change your scar … is to use the implement which caused it in the first place. We were lucky she had to leave it behind at Hogwarts, and the headmaster was able to find it amongst her stuff."

"Lucky?" Corvus asked in disbelief. He felt vaguely betrayed. They could not ask this of him. They couldn't. Surely not.

But he found no relief in their expressions as he looked horror-struck between the two older men.

"I'm sorry," Remus repeated regretfully. "But this is what you _will_ have to use to change the scar. Think of it as your final victory over her. Using her own tool to counter what she did to you."

He stared down at the offensive thing. It was a good argument, but it held little sway with his emotions. And those told him he never wanted to use that monstrosity again. Ever.

In the end he gave in. Because there were too many of those good arguments piled up against him. And Snape telling him quietly that he knew his son could do this, and that he was proud of him was the final straw to make him cave. It would probably have resulted in a restless night, but his father wisely dosed Corvus with dreamless sleep. So he was well rested this morning, which unfortunately didn't help against the trepidation pooling in his stomach. Though somehow he managed to keep the fear and apprehension at bay.

And now it was time. The first rays of sunlight touched into the courtyard. Once again the quill was lying in front of him. Looking far too innocent and harmless.

Admittedly it was now considerably more so than it had been before. A great many cleansing and purifying spells had been cast on it in preparation for this morning's endeavour. Dedicating its use to balance and to right the wrongs which had been committed with it. But there was no spell to cleanse Harry of the memories of using the thing, since he didn't particularly fancy being obliviated. So in his mind he still saw Umbridge leering at him, taking a warped delight in the torture she was forcing on him. Trying to break him. Gloating at the power she thought she had over him.

In the end, he had been stronger than her. And today he would be stronger yet, and cast aside the last reminder of the evil toad.

There was also a parchment in front of him. Three concentric circles had been drawn on it, bisected by a cross. At the points where the circles met the cross, smaller circles awaited the runes he would write. Three times he would repeat them, infusing the runes with his magic and his intent.

In his mind, he carefully wrapped himself in clouds, taking particular care with his hand. The hand which was remarkably steady when he reluctantly picked up the quill, and set the nub on the first empty rune-circle. He called the starting rune to mind, letting its meaning echo through him. He steeled himself against the pain and applied pressure, saw the rune form on the parchment under his guiding hand. Drawn in blood. His blood.

It hurt. Much more so than the original use of the quill ever had. Remus had warned him of that likelihood. Yet it was not only his hand which hurt, the pain seemed to come from his very core. There was a horrible wrenching sensation tearing at him. But through the pain he watched in fascination as the scarred lines on the back of his hand started to waver and distort themselves.

He drew the second rune. The third. The fourth. Always holding their meaning clearly in his mind. Went on to the second repeat. The phrase was by now unrecognisable, and the back of his hand was covered in bright red blood. His blood, being spilled again by his own hand. The pain had risen to almost unbearable levels. He felt faint, but knew he had to finish. The third repeat would seal the new form.

He filled his mind with more clouds, in a desperate attempt to quell the bad memories and muffle the soul-wrenching pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. Arms went around his shoulders as Remus embraced Harry from behind, giving him support. And his father's hands helped keep his shaking arms steady as one by one he completed the parchment. The pain was nearly intolerable at the end, as the scar writhed into a new shape. The moment he sealed the ritual with the last rune, it felt like something terrible was finally wrenched out of his spirit.

It was too much. Everything went black.

oOoOoOoOo

He must have been unconscious only for a few moments, because the back of his hand was still full of blood. Or so he discovered when he reflexively started to rub at it, trying to dull the persistent pain. But his father's hands prevented him from completing the movement. He raised his eyes to look back into the concerned dark gaze.

And then the man let go of Harry's hands and pulled him into a tight embrace instead. He could hear Snape's rapid heartbeat beneath his cheek, cradled against the man's shoulder as he was. And despite the pain he was smiling. A smile that grew even wider when Remus' hand came to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and listened to the slowly calming heartbeat, and the faint twittering of birds outside. He felt the smooth tiles below him, and the warmth of the early morning sun on his body. The deep breaths he drew were filled with the fragrance of lavender.

It was the sound and feeling and smell of contentment.

Afterwards his hand was carefully cleansed of the blood, and he gratefully downed a pain-reliever. A bowl filled with Murtlap essence to bathe his new scar in was set in front of him. Before he dunked his hand in, Harry inspected it carefully, tilting it from side to side. And even as he soaked his hand in the bowl, he gloried in the memory of four perfectly executed runes, looking like they belonged. Like they'd always been there.

"Thank you," he finally said, looking at Remus earnestly.

"It was your own work, cub," the man said with a fond smile.

"But your idea," he pointed out, lightly sloshing his hand around in the bowl.

"Well, I guess I can take credit for that at least," Remus admitted with a chuckle. "I am sorry it was so painful for you, though."

He shrugged, casting his eyes down. "I survived. The pain is pretty much gone now, anyway. And I do feel better. Much … lighter, somehow."

"That is likely due to the removal of the compulsion you were under," his father's smooth voice commented. He looked up and met the dark gaze again.

"Yeah. It felt like something was torn out of me," Harry explained his earlier torment. "I didn't realise it was that strong though ..."

"And you were stronger still, to not succumb to it. But now that it is gone ..."

"Yes," he simply agreed, with a contented smile.

And a life full of deception would be ever so much easier without the compulsion to not tell lies.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sigh. At this rate they are going to be in Spain forever. On the other hand, I managed to wrap up the apparition lessons. I hope Corvus didn't succeed too fast, but I feel a strong ability to imagine should really give him a boost in this regard. Also even in canon Harry 'I can break the Imperius' Potter is supposed to be very strong-willed, and what is Determination if not a strong will? Imagining the clouds as a full-body wrap just sort of happened, though I always had the intention of eventually using that to allow for silent apparition.

As for the mental defences … once again while writing my mind came up with an interesting twist. Which will become important at a later point, as Occlumency will play a big role in this story. I do honestly not know where these ideas are coming from, though. Maybe it's me listening to my intuition. Or perhaps there is this pool of inspiration you can tap into as a writer. Whatever it is, I sure hope it doesn't stop working anytime soon. None of this is meant to turn Corvus into a super-powered character. It is more an exploration of his well-developed imagination, and finally making use of it in a magical context.

Thank you very much for all the reviews! And again sorry for updating so slowly. Unfortunately this winter I was ill several times, which did not help my writing progress. Stuffed heads and runny noses are simply not conductive for literary endeavours, even if it's 'just' fan-fiction. I'm putting my hope in spring though ...


	19. A Taste of Normal

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Unfortunately, the moment of glorious triumph was soon afterwards followed by the rather sad one of having to say good-bye. For all they had only been here a couple of days, the villa felt like he'd known it for years. Possibly because there were now so many great memories that he would always associate with it. His first successful apparition. Changing the scar. Seeing mountains for the first time, as well as the amazing visit to the Alhambra. And simply having a good time with Remus and his father.

He would also miss the gentle Spanish couple who had opened their home to the three British wizards. Señor Hernandez had turned out to be a very generous soul, with a great deal of enthusiasm and an appreciation for new experiences. He reminded Corvus a bit of Mr. Weasley, though he was not quite as … naive. Nor as obsessed with Muggles. But he seemed to be curious about a great many things, and loved hearing about Hogwarts and the lives of his visitors. However, he was undemanding in his curiosity, and thus an easy man to like.

He was well-matched with his wife, a woman with an ever ready smile whose greatest pleasure seemed to be laughter. Or as her husband had pointed out, Señora Rosales was easy to amuse. She appeared to find entertainment and amusement in many things, and she loved sharing her happiness. Both had taken very much to their new guests, though it probably helped that they had been good friends of Remus for a long time.

As he first accepted a firm handshake from their host, and then an embrace from Señora Rosales that rivalled Mrs. Weasley's hugs, his eyes felt suspiciously moist. It would be a much nicer world if it had more people like those two in it. And he thought he saw some of the same reluctance to leave in Snape's eyes. So when they were issued invitations to return soon, he kept his gaze locked on his father.

He was perfectly happy to receive a wry smile and a slight nod. And who knew, maybe there would be a future for them where they would be free to travel and visit whoever and whenever they wanted.

He could dream of it, anyway.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Do you feel up to trying on your own? We are going to apparate to the same spot as yesterday in the morning," Remus asked him. "It's perfectly fine if you do not want to attempt it yet, you have not had that much practise after all."

Corvus darted a slightly nervous look between the werewolf and his father, who was busy checking over what luggage they had left out for today's journey. Snape looked up when his son did not reply immediately, giving him a faint smile.

"Indeed," he agreed, his tone reassuringly smooth and uncritical. "Only try it if you feel sufficiently confident."

"Hmm," his son said vaguely. "I think … I might like to try. But won't this cause trouble with the trace? I know this place is unplottable and shielded, but outside?"

"We are in Spain," Remus pointed out composedly. "The trace does not extend to here. Besides that, apparition is … different. Because you do not actually use your wand directly."

"Oh, all right then. How do we do this?"

"I will go ahead, and your father will be last. This way, should you manage to splinch yourself, we can fix things easily."

"In fact, these are excellent circumstance for your first attempt at a longer distance apparition," Snape approved. "Now I hope you do remember the spot clearly?"

"I think so," Corvus said nervously. He did want to try, but the fluttery feeling in his stomach wasn't helpful.

Remus gave him a reassuring smile and nod before he disappeared. His father put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Deep breaths," he instructed, in that calming tone of voice his son was really starting to appreciate. "Take your time, there is no need to hurry. Build your images clearly, and only go ahead when you are ready."

He nodded, and Snape let go of his shoulder, taking a step back. He took his time to remember the apparition location, secluded in a small courtyard, the entryway hidden behind Muggle repelling wards. Once he felt confident about having a … fix on the spot, which was the best word he could come up with for the combined effect of visual image and a kind of internal _feeling_ for the location, he spun himself in his cloudy protection and pulled himself _there_.

In the next moment Remus' hands helped keep him steady, and he heard the delighted laugh of the other wizard.

"See? Nothing to it," the man said happily. "You will be popping about with the best of them soon. And here is Severus as well, so let's head over to the office." With that he took Corvus' arm and started leading him out into the streets of Granada.

"Office?"

"We are going to drive to Malaga."

"Drive? Like actually in a _car_?"

"Sure. I have got a licence, and so does Severus. Of course, it has been a while for him I think, and your father might also need to get used to them driving on the other side of the road here ..."

"I believe I shall manage, wolf," Snape said somewhat snidely from behind them.

"Sure you will," Remus agreed good-naturedly, with a grin and a wink for Corvus.

"But why are we _driving_?" he persisted.

"Oh, we could apparate there, it's not that far. But well, if you want to see the countryside, going about the country roads is the best way to do it," Remus pointed out, waving his free hand expansively. "All part of the great Spanish experience, cub."

"Won't it get very hot in the car?"

Remus tapped his free hand to his arm where he kept his wand. "Wizards, remember?" he whispered conspiratorially.

Corvus sighed. "Of course. You know, five years at Hogwarts, and I still forget?"

"Try not to forget around your future house-mates," Snape pointed out, coming up beside them. "Someone raised by pure-bloods would not."

He made a face. "With all the stuff you want me to remember, or do, or not do, it will be a _miracle_ if I don't slip up sometimes," he complained.

"Fortunately, you can explain some of that away with not having been raised in Britain."

"Yeah. I guess I really need to play up the 'foreign' angle."

"Indeed, cub," Remus said, smiling at him back over his shoulder while opening the door to an office promising to rent out cars. "And there are also still three weeks left. You will do fine by then."

Corvus shook his head and sighed again. "I sure hope so," he muttered darkly as he followed the other man into the abrupt coolness of artificial climate-control.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You have been very quiet, Severus. Is anything the matter?" Remus asked the other man carefully after they had settled down for lunch in an out of the way inn somewhere in the middle of Andalusian nowhere.

They had traversed a hilly landscape dominated by orchards of olives and fruit, dry, harvested fields, and equally dried out meadows. Most of the smaller river-beds they had passed had been devoid of water as well. The air outside was hazy with heat, and Corvus was really grateful for the cooling charm that kept the interior of their rented car at a pleasant temperature. They had made several detours, taking a very convoluted route to reach their destination.

One detour had been to the reservoir at Iznájar, a small city clinging to a hill surrounded by water on all sides. The white façades of the houses shone in the brilliant sunlight, which made a lovely contrast against the turquoise of the lake-water. There were many orchards on the hills sloping towards the reservoir, and from a distance the patterns created by the orderly dotted rows of trees looked almost like artwork.

"Oh, just thinking," Snape said quietly, perusing his menu, which fortunately had English translations. Quite a few of them were rather amusingly incorrect or misspelled.

"Anything you want to share?"

The dark-eyed man sighed and rubbed his temples as if he had a headache. "I need to come up with something to tell … _him_ about the wards at Hogwarts."

"Ah, of course," Remus said, and started to add something, but at that moment they were interrupted by a waiter coming to take their orders. He spoke up again once the man had left. "How about something that targets the Dark Mark?"

"And how would I explain that I am exempt from it?"

"That could even be the selling point for You-know-who. After all, Albus would have to put something of that kind in for you. Which you could then have 'discovered' in a week of undisturbed examination of the wards."

"Hmm. The idea _does_ have merit. It might even help convince him of my loyalty. After all, I would be giving him access through supposedly important wards."

"Albus would need to actually put them up, though," Remus pointed out.

"Yes, but they do not have to be particularly good," Snape replied dismissively. "As long as they appear to be working at all."

"Why aren't there wards like that around Hogwarts in the first place?" Corvus asked curiously.

"They would unfortunately be very difficult to implement," his father told him seriously. "And in the past impossible for another reason entirely. Remember, there are people bearing the Dark Mark who supposedly took it under duress ..."

"Like Malfoy, you mean?"

"Lucius Malfoy, yes. He is hardly the only one who pleaded the Imperius curse or coercion of some kind. Can you imagine the storm of protest he would have raised if he, a Governor of the school, had been barred from entering it?"

Corvus made a face. "Only too well, yeah."

"But now he is in Azkaban, so Albus could in theory put such wards up. Mind, they would be exceedingly challenging to do, because you need to ward against a person under a specific _spell_. Which is already quite difficult in itself. When you add the factor that the Dark Mark is essentially quiescent unless the Dark Lord activates it, it becomes near impossible. However, I suspect Albus might have done some research into the matter. I will have to ask him to see if the idea is workable."

"Would You-know-who believe in something like that, though?"

"There is no reason why he should not, especially since he will be pleased they come ready-made with a loop-hole because of me. But the wards are only a distraction anyway. I fear Corvus will be the news much more likely to capture his attention."

The look Snape gave his son was full of a protectiveness that gave Corvus an odd shivery feeling inside. He shrugged to hide it.

"You said from the start of this that he would likely be interested in me. What with being the Black heir and _her_ offspring," he pointed out, affecting an unconcern he didn't quite feel.

He knew he wasn't fooling his father when Snape's fingers lifted up his chin and forced him to make eye-contact.

"We _will_ keep you safe," the man said harshly.

"You will _try_," his son corrected him gently, putting his hand on top of his father's. "But I do believe that if anyone can, you will."

They stared at each other until Remus cleared his throat, warning them of the return of the waiter with their drinks and the salad. There was an uneasy silence afterwards, as they all busied themselves with plates full of sliced tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and onions, accompanied by a lovely chewy white bread.

Corvus finally broke the silence after thoughtfully chewing a piece of tomato which actually had a _taste_. There was something to be said for fresh vegetables grown in a warm, sunny climate.

"You know, since you brought him up, he kind of is my uncle, isn't he?"

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy. I mean, okay, only by marriage … but Narcissa Malfoy definitely is my _actual_ aunt," he explained, contemplating some of the … interesting relationships that had come with all the rest of his new life. "And Draco is my spoiled, whiny cousin," he added with a considering look at Snape. "You know, is it true what they say, that you are his godfather?"

The man closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "_They_ are actually wrong," he corrected with a sigh. "While I have always cultivated contacts with the Malfoy family for the obvious reason of gathering information, I was never that close to them. Though I suppose now I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, by default, if Lucius is your uncle, then I am _Draco's_. Even though I have never been married to his aunt, we still share a common blood-relative in you."

"Don't sound so pleased at this," Corvus said slightly mockingly of his father's resigned tone. "And you have forgotten the best bit."

"Which would be, oh cheeky son of mine?" Snape asked with that particular silky tone of voice which always carried a note of warning.

"Why, you are _Dora's_ uncle, too," he explained, attempting to duplicate Dumbledore's twinkle.

"Salazar save me," his father muttered, burying his face in his hands rather too dramatically to be entirely believable. Remus patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

Snape gave the other man a glare in return. "And if you … no! I do not even want to think about it!" he declared and speared a slice of cucumber, biting into it savagely.

Corvus just grinned. Those tomatoes really were good. And so was life right now, despite all his strange or horrible relatives.

.

oOoOoOoOo

It was late afternoon when they finally arrived in Malaga. They had taken half the day for a journey that could have been accomplished in a couple of hours … or the blink of an eyelid, depending on the chosen way of travel. On the other hand, the point had been to see the countryside, and they had certainly done that.

After driving through the busy and rather ugly city-centre, they proceeded eastwards to a comparatively quiet suburb. It had one long main-street, which was mostly flanked by tall apartment houses. Otherwise, the area seemed to consist of quiet side-streets populated by some fairly impressive villas, at least as far as Corvus could make out. Many of the properties were surrounded by high walls or blooming hedges shielding the houses from sight. They finally stopped at one such whitewashed wall, where a wrought-iron gate offered only a limited view of what lay behind.

They were welcomed by another Spanish couple, who seemed just as friendly as the Hernandez, if much busier. Señor Mendoza and his wife apparently ran a service for wizard-sightseeing. This included arranging wizard-friendly accommodations, as well as sightseeing tours via portkey. Which was an interesting concept that actually made a lot sense. After all, why spend hours getting to a destination, when you could portkey there? And an organised tour assured safe landing spots and getting to see all the high-lights.

On top of that, you wouldn't have to deal with Muggles, which would be a … challenge for the average wizard. He could just imagine Mr. Weasley trying to hire a normal car and driving it around ...

The couple also had two daughters, a pair of lively dark-haired girls with laughing brown eyes that were shy for about five minutes. After that their curiosity won out, and soon Corvus found himself abducted and dragged outside. The girls secured their captive on a Hollywood swing, hopping up on either side of him to keep him there, and started bombarded him with questions. Little Elena and her younger sister Laura, age nine and seven respectively, turned out to be relentless inquisitors. As fast as the two talked, he had serious problems understanding their questions, but that didn't deter them in the slightest. They either patiently repeated themselves until he got it, or simply moved on to the next one.

It made his head spin, but they were rather charming in a little girl sort of way. It was also yet another new experience for him. He'd never had a chance before to really interact with younger children, especially not friendly ones who saw him as someone _interesting_. Of course, there was the problem that he couldn't actually _answer_ some of their questions. Fortunately, he had his lack of Spanish language skills to hide behind … he could simply pretend not to understand what he could not answer.

Instead he started telling them about Hogwarts, in his halting, still too broken Spanish. They loved it anyway.

Eventually, some time after darkness had fallen, he was rescued from the charming inquisition when they were all called for dinner. It felt strange eating dinner so late, but it was apparently just another slightly odd custom of the country. And it did go hand in hand with the midday siesta. Though he hadn't realised until now it meant the children stayed up quite late as well. But the country simply had a different rhythm due to the summer heat.

The adults continued to talk until well after midnight, but Corvus gladly joined the two little girls in going to bed soon after dinner. It had been an exhausting day. And it started with quite an ordeal for him, too. Though he wouldn't change that part for anything. Every time he looked at his hand he would get this slightly goofy grin. Though that would hopefully stop soon. Because he could easily imagine the mocking amusement Phineas would bestow on him if he found _that_ expression on his descendant's face.

This time he remembered to do his Occlumency exercises. He really did not fancy another nightmare. Especially given how much he ended up remembering _Umbridge_ earlier that day, she would probably have been a major feature, so … doing his exercises was by far the better option.

.

oOoOoOoOo

The next day, there was a beach. There was also a sunshade, two giggling Spanish girls who were playing some obscure game further towards the water, big colourful towels, lots of sand, warm water, as well as Remus and his father. They were mostly surrounded by Spanish people, as this part of town seemed largely free of foreign tourists, with a sprinkling of what appeared to be language students.

At least they did not stand out, since once again they had been glamoured to look more Spanish. Having a tan made them blend in nicely with the other sun-worshippers around them. And if seeing Snape in pyjamas had been … surprising, then seeing him in beach-wear was … even more so. The wizard was certainly rather fit, though the multiple faded scars on his wiry body told the ugly story of the price of spying on Voldemort. Just as the ones on Remus were a testimony to many painful transformations without the wolfsbane potion.

Remus had, in a bout of whimsy, glamoured Snape's Dark Mark to look like the tattoo of a pirate flag. Elena and Laura had been most impressed with it. His father had glowered at everybody else, daring them to make a comment. He had also brought a book, and was currently hiding behind it. Corvus was a bit surprised the wizard had come along at all, since he was clearly uncomfortable. He did appreciate it, though. It meant doing things for the first time … together with his family.

Which was exactly how it should be, after all. Even if the circumstances were … unusual. But maybe normal was what you made of it.

"By the way, Remus, why does everybody call you Señor Ochoa?" Corvus asked at some point, idly running his fingers through the sand while trying to keep his eyes on their two little charges. When the girl's mother had learned the visitors were going to the beach, they had been pressed into baby-sitting duties. Not that he minded. While those two were real chatterboxes, they were well-mannered and charming company, and fairly easy to take care of.

"Well, it started out as a kind of nickname. Ochoa is an old Basque word for wolf ..."

"Oh. Do any of them know …?"

"Just a few of them, like the Hernandez. But what do you think where the name _Lupin_ comes from?"

"But you weren't always … ehm, you know?" he said, remembering they were on a public beach. Even if most of the people around them probably didn't understand English that well, you never knew.

"No. But Greyback must have thought it the supreme joke, I suppose," Remus told him with a sour expression. "Merlin, how I _hate_ the bastard!"

Corvus swallowed at seeing the hateful, almost feral look in the werewolf's eyes. "Yeah, and you were just a kid, too?"

Remus sighed and turned over on his towel. "Yes. Though, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to spoil this beautiful day with this kind of talk ..."

"Of course, I am sorry ..."

"Not to worry, cub. Now how about going for another swim? Or maybe you would like some ice-cream?" the older wizard asked, eyeing an approaching ice-cream cart suggestively.

"Ice-cream sounds great, actually. Chocolate and something fruity, if they have that, please."

"Don't expect anything like Fortescue's, mind."

"We are on the beach. A warm, sunny beach. That _requires_ ice-cream, of whatever quality," Corvus stated firmly.

"Hmm, I guess it does at that. All right. How about you, Severus?"

"No, thanks," the voice was slightly muffled by the book.

"Suit yourself. Elena? Laura? Queréis helado?" Remus called loudly, getting up from the towel and taking out his wallet. His question was answered by shrieks of delight and two girls racing towards him. Corvus watched the three head for the ice-cream cart together, Remus bending down to hear little Laura better.

"Speaking of names," he said slowly after a few moments. He had gotten an idea, after hearing those two address their father.

"Hmm?"

"You remember how you said you wouldn't mind what I chose to call you, as long as it wasn't disrespectful?"

"Indeed. I also remember telling you it would sort itself out," Snape replied, lowering his book to look at his son with a raised eyebrow. "Has it, then?"

"Perhaps. It's like this … I honestly don't think you are exactly 'dad' material," Corvus pointed out with a sidelong glance at his father.

"Disowning me already, I see."

"That's not how I meant it, and you know it."

"Possibly."

Corvus made a face at him and continued. "But 'father' feels just so horribly … formal. Even though it would suit you better."

"I should hope so. I also hope you have no intention of calling me 'papa'," the older man said, putting on a suffering expression.

"Oh no. That would be even worse than 'dad'. But how about 'padre'?"

"I think I could learn to live with that one," Snape told him with a remarkably soft smile.

.

oOoOoOoOo

They stayed on the beach until midday, eventually returning to the villa for lunch. The heat had robbed Corvus of his appetite, but fortunately lunch was simple sandwiches anyway. This was followed by a short siesta, until Remus came to wake him up. He watched in some puzzlement as the teacher looked through his trunk, sitting up cross-legged under the light bed-sheet.

"What are you looking for?" he asked, yawning and trying to loosen up his stiff neck.

"Just something that will make you fit in," Remus explained. "We are meeting up with some friends of Señor Mendoza in town. We are going to the Feria together with them. Hmm ..."

"Can't find anything?"

"Actually, it is quite easy. Apparently I was not paying enough attention when Severus put you through the shopping grind. You could probably wear most of this," he said, closing the lid of the trunk again. "Simply pick something in black or grey, and a nice white shirt."

"Oh, yes," Corvus agreed with a groan. "I've got _lots_ of that. By the way, do you think my father has a fetish for buttons?" he added in a deliberately whiny tone of voice.

That had Remus laughing loudly. "Don't let him hear you say that," he warned with a grin once he managed to stop.

"No worries. They do look impressive, I have to admit, if they weren't such a bother to do up. Or to undo. I wonder, is there a spell for it?"

"You should probably ask your father," the older wizard advised him, still grinning. "If you dare, that is!"

Corvus shook his head at him, laughing himself, and went to pick out something suitable to wear. After he had freshened up and dressed, he found their hosts had already departed. Only Remus and his father were still waiting for him.

"You should not have let me sleep so long," he complained, hurriedly shaking out his long curls and retying them with a black ribbon.

"We are still on time," Remus assured him. "We just finished ourselves, and this way we avoided the ehm … girl-herding."

"Is that actually a word?" Snape asked snidely, raising one eyebrow at the other wizard while he took out his wand to redo the concealing glamours on his son.

"Well … it is now. Right. Cub, I will have to side-along you since you do not know where we are going. So ..."

"Clouds, yes, I know," he said, rolling his eyes, but he obediently wrapped himself up mentally in white fluff and grabbed Remus' arm.

"And remember that they know you and your father as Misters Smith," the werewolf added. "Though why you picked something so … stereotypical, Severus ..."

"Always keep it simple and easy to remember," Snape told him as he took hold of his other arm. "Getting too inventive with fake names just lands you in trouble. And it is the most frequent surname in Britain."

"Well, you are the spy. Here we go ..."

The apparition point in central Malaga was again in a small courtyard. Once they left that refuge to meet up with the rest of the party, Corvus saw why Remus had been particular about what he wore.

The males tended to be in black and grey, with short jackets over white shirts, and many also wore hats. Against this stark attire, the women stood out even more. Because they wore long dresses that were … colourful, often with contrasting polka dots. They were also exceedingly frilly. And flounced. The _flounces_ had frills. The flamenco dresses he'd seen a couple of days ago had been absolutely simple compared to this overflow of … frillyness. They also wore flowers in their hair, and sometimes matching fringed shawls.

Some of the women had a lot of style, while others were … a bit over the top to his British eyes. But in total, it made for a very colourful and lively picture. It rather reminded him of the groupings of dahlias his … Lily's sister had cultivated in her garden.

And as they strolled through the narrow streets, festooned with streamers, he had a little dahlia clinging to each hand. Because Elena and Laura wore these dresses, too. One was in lemon green spotted with yellow, and the other in mauve with white dots. It was probably one of the cutest pictures he had ever seen.

All around them people were drinking and chatting, walking and dancing, or even riding around. Some of the riders had a girl sitting side-saddle behind them, which looked fantastic with those dresses spread out over the rump of the horse. Of course not everyone was dressed up, especially not the tourists, but a fair few were.

The dresses also looked great when the women danced, which frequently happened right in the middle of the street, to music drifting out of some open doorway to a café or bar. Unlike with flamenco, there seemed to be little variety to their movements. His two charming little dahlias tried their best to explain this. They patiently told him that this was _Sevillanas_, which was not flamenco at all, but rather a kind of set dance. It consisted of three different sets of fixed steps, and accordingly the music also followed a repetitive pattern, though the lyrics differed from song to song. It was something apparently danced at the various Ferias in southern Spain.

Their group consisted entirely of magical folk, though not all of them were Spanish. He learned that some of them kept visiting the town every year for the Feria. Well, short trips _were_ easy when you had a portkey. They all chatted amiably with the British wizards, though Corvus was glad he had his two dahlias to hide behind when he had to dodge inconvenient questions.

The girls also tried to teach him how to dance, but eventually gave up in some disgust with his two left feet.

The party drifted around the old town-centre for the longest time, with stops at various places for something to drink or eat or simply to rest weary feet. At some point after nightfall they finally returned to their host's house, and from there made their way to a most curious restaurant. Because the only thing one could actually order there were drinks and salads.

The rest of the dishes, which consisted entirely of fish and other seafood, were carried around by waiters calling out the name of the particular dish they had. If you heard the name of something you wanted, you simply waved the waiter over and took one of his plates. This proved to be a bit of a challenge for the less-than-proficient in Spanish, but with some help from those who did understand everybody managed to get something to their taste. And the food was very good, which explained why the restaurant was so well-filled.

The final touch was a waiter running around the place announcing loudly that he was the one you paid with. It certainly was yet another memorable experience.

He didn't relish the thought that it would soon come to an end. But they were already half-way through their stay, and afterwards … well, that would be afterwards. For now he would listen to the animated chatter around him, and smile at people who didn't know him. And therefore also had no further expectations of him but that he might be an interesting stranger to talk to. It would end all too soon, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

But he really wanted a future where this was _normal_, and not the exception.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I was actually in Malaga in August 1996, during the Feria de Agosto. Which, I must admit, normally takes place a week later. But I shifted it forward by a week so I could include it, because I have fond memories of the event. Admittedly, it appears to have changed a fair bit since then. I compared videos of more recent years with some old ones from the nineties, and it frankly used to have a lot more class. These days, there just seem to be tons of tourists, while 20 years ago there were actually a lot of Spanish people dressed up for it. The suburb I described is called El Palo, and you can in fact find the restaurant they went to there, it is called El Tintero and really quite the experience.

oOoOoOoOo

I would like to dedicate these words to the memory of Terry Pratchett, who died last week. I would be happy if I wrote even one tenth as well and thought-provoking as you did. Thank you for many endless happy hours of reading, laughing, and marvelling at the wonderful worlds your words brought to life. Thank you for all your books, which combined philosophy with humour in the most amazing way. You will be sorely missed.

oOoOoOoOo


	20. Enter the Heron

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Another morning, another leave-taking.

His two little dahlias had been teary-eyed at seeing him leave already, apparently they had decided to adopt Corvus. He had to admit they certainly had grown on him as well. Thus promises were exchanged they were going to write each other, an undertaking Remus was going to help with. And then they made their leisurely way towards Seville, with several stops and detours on the way.

First they visited Ronda, a beautiful small town perched above a spectacular canyon crossed high above by several old bridges. From there they drove to Cádiz, a place which he later mostly remembered for its majestic cathedral and how blue the sky above the seaside-promenade seemed in contrast. This blurred together in his memory with yet another impressive cathedral in Jerez. It was the one in Cordoba which stuck out though, for being decidedly unusual. And somehow also … _wrong_.

Because it was built right in the middle of what must once have been a most imposing mosque. Now it was a huge hall full of endless rows of columns and arches ... and added right in the middle there was an open sided Christian church. For all that there were plenty of beautiful details to be found, putting those two together simply hadn't worked. The result somehow felt disconcertingly … off. Like someone had attempted to graft two very different cultures together, trying to impose one on top of the other, and they just hadn't melded properly.

The resulting building reminded him quite a bit of his own situation … and those of the muggle-born in general. Because introducing them to the wizarding world at the age of eleven was simply too late. A lot of cultural knowledge was learned before that, and so later you basically got muggles with magical knowledge grafted on. It was hardly surprising they had trouble fitting into wizarding culture.

Those born into it in return viewed the struggling muggle-born at least partly as a threat, because of the differing views and ideas they brought with them. Which threatened to destroy old wizarding traditions through sheer ignorance. Just like the harmony of the old mosque had been destroyed by putting something different in the middle.

But to keep the muggle-born out, like certain factions wanted, wasn't the answer. Because they were needed to keep the dwindling magical world alive. And because it was not their fault at all they entered it so ill-prepared.

Of course you couldn't take them from their parents, either … but they definitely needed to be introduced earlier to magic. Perhaps through something like summer-camps. You could even hold those at Hogwarts without too much trouble. And classes on wizarding culture would be very helpful, too. As well as introductory information and books written by authors who actually understood both sides.

You could also assign them a magical mentor as soon as they started doing accidental magic, which would likely be a blessing for their parents, too. This would also prevent the abuse of children whose muggle guardians were afraid or overwhelmed by dealing with a magical offspring.

In fact, there was a lot you could do to help the muggle-born, and most of it would not even be that difficult or expensive to implement. It simply took someone who was willing and able to see what needed doing, and had the political influence to see it done. Which was probably the reason it had never happened. The first was limited to someone with a muggle background, and the second to the old powerful pure-blood families who saw no reason for any changes. Or simply didn't understand the problem. But thanks to the … peculiar circumstances of his birth and upbringing, he was both.

He found himself idly speculating about all this as they drove towards their final destination. The other two seemed to recognise his pensive mood and left him to his thoughts as he stared out at the passing landscape.

It really was a wonder the magical world managed to function at all. It was split so many ways, between the traditional, hide-bound pure-bloods, and the muggle-born who came into it fresh with wide-eyed wonder. Which was usually soon dispelled when they found themselves in a strange culture with little help on how to deal with it or how to fit in. And then there were the half-bloods who often ended up straddling the divide, and didn't quite belong to either world.

And that didn't even take into account the constant struggle between Light and Dark, and those who wished to stay neutral in the conflict. The idea that any side could permanently win was about as stupid as the thought that the differences caused by birth and upbringing would mysteriously solve themselves. Just pushing it all together and hoping for the best was not an approach which had any chance of working. And was he seriously starting to think he might have to go into politics, because _someone_ needed to go and knock some common sense into people?

In any case he first had to find his own place in this mess. Despite the fact he was muggle-raised, he didn't really belong in the muggle world. Lily's relatives had seen to that by never treating him normally. But neither did he fit in with the magical world. Yet. Because from now on he would have to. Worse, he would need to blend in with those most dedicated to pure-blood bigotry and tradition. And the only possible way to do that successfully was if he could hide his ignorance behind other cultural differences.

For that he had to become … more Spanish. And thus the need for one last stop before they went home again ...

.

oOoOoOoOo

It was late afternoon when they arrived in Seville. The city appeared almost deserted, a few intrepid tourists being the only ones willing to brave the heat of the afternoon. They finally stopped at a town-house of moderate proportions but with a splendid view, as it overlooked the cathedral square. It had a shuttered, almost forbidding air. When they passed through the front door of age-darkened wood, Corvus felt the cool shiver of wards on his skin. Behind those, the house no longer seemed so unwelcoming, though it still had an atmosphere of age and secrecy. It also appeared larger on the inside than the outside, which honestly should not have surprised him.

They climbed up a couple of flights of a wide stone staircase, following the middle-aged woman who had opened the door for them downstairs. She had only exchanged a few low words with Remus, and now led the way silently. Finally they were ushered into a parlour overlooking the square, its windows mostly shuttered against the bright sunlight outside.

"Señora Moralez, sus huéspedes," their guide said quietly, with a respectful inclination of her head towards the woman waiting for them.

She sat with a graceful upright posture, though age had clearly crippled the hands half-hidden by a shawl in her lap. Her white hair was covered with a black lace mantilla, matching the stark black robes she wore. Her dark eyes were studying her guests intently, and her gaze had the same analysing quality he had come to expect of his father.

"Gracias, María," their hostess replied, switching easily to English afterwards. "And welcome Remus, old friend. I hope you had a pleasant journey, Señor Snape, Señor Black, and welcome to my humble abode," she finished with an ironic twist to her lips.

"I would not dare to call it humble, Señora," Snape spoke up, giving her a courteous bow. "It appears most splendid. We must thank you for extending your hospitality to us."

"You come well recommended," she said, looking fondly at Remus who went to embrace her gently, kissing her cheek chastely in greeting. "He has told me some of your story, though it is obvious he left out much, as well."

With that her gaze went to Corvus, and he found himself suddenly tongue-tied. She reminded him of Madame Longbottom, though Señora Inez Moralez Sandoval clearly had a lot more style. And even seated quietly, she had that same force of personality and presence he had seen in the flamenco dancers. In short, she was rather intimidating.

She apparently could also read faces quite well, as she chuckled lightly and her expression turned into a reassuring smile.

"Come here, young man," she told him softly, beckoning him forward with one of her age-ravaged hands.

Somehow he managed to move up to her gracefully enough, giving her a respectful bow as well.

"Buenas tardes, Señora Moralez," he said. "Thank you for your welcome."

She continued to smile gently at him, while gesturing for them all to take a seat.

"Young Corvus," she began, still studying him with her unsettlingly intense gaze. "If I may call you that?"

"Of course, Señora."

"What Remus _has_ told me is that you are in danger from the monster who wishes to rule Britain … and who will likely not stop there, should he be successful. I do not normally concern myself much with politics, but I did lose my husband a long time ago to that other monster called Grindelwald. I wish someone had stopped him before he spread his filth over most of Europe … so if it is in my power to help stop this one, I cannot refuse."

Her eyes turned even more penetrating.

"Because our mutual friend also hinted quite strongly that _you_ might play an important role in stopping him. Which I admit, I find … intriguing. Especially taken together with your apparent need to pretend to a past you do not have ..." she trailed off, her sharp gaze moving between all of them. "But I do not need to know more, I think. What I do not know … cannot hurt anyone."

"Indeed, Señora Moralez," Snape agreed smoothly, his face impassive, though his eyes were a match for hers. "We would love to enlighten you, and hopefully in the future we may do so, but at the moment ..."

"The risk is just too great, dear Inez," Remus completed Snape's sentence, settling down more comfortably in his chair with a sigh. "But I can assure you we are all most dedicated to stopping him, and willing to swear an oath to that, if it would reassure you."

"No, no," she said with a shake of her head, twisting her hands into the shawl. "That is quite unnecessary. However, I would understand what exactly you require of me? More than the vague hints you have given me so far."

The werewolf chuckled lightly. "Aside from simply wanting to stay the night in your lovely home? Frankly, Corvus needs to acquire some of your memories."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, her eyes moving back to meet Corvus'.

"Estás seguro? You know the risk … with someone of his age it would be all too easy to overwhelm him?"

"He has received enough training in Occlumency that you should be able to feed him memories without problems," his father informed the old witch calmly. "And he is … rather mature for his age as well."

"Is that so? I still would prefer to test him ..."

The wizard merely made an inviting gesture in his son's direction. Corvus couldn't help feel somewhat apprehensive despite Snape's obvious confidence in him. His only experience with a Legilimens had been his father, and to some degree Dumbledore. And Voldemort, of course. But that hadn't felt so much like an impending _exam_.

"May I, young Corvus?"

He met her intent gaze, not attempting to hide his nervousness, and nodded hesitantly after a moment.

"Prepare yourself then," she advised him, her eyes gentling.

He sat back more comfortably in his chair, and began to regulate his breathing. Filling his mind with clouds, he made sure to bring memories of the last week to the front. By contrast, he pushed his recollections of the life of Harry Potter as far back as he could, hidden behind layers of white. The clouds helped with his nervousness as well, so when he felt his mind as well-protected and ordered as he could manage, he returned his gaze firmly to her.

"I am ready, Señora."

"Legilimens."

Her mental presence matched her outward one. He could see straight away why she had been concerned about overwhelming him with her memories, because it was just as … present and vividly strong. His father was either a sledgehammer or a stealthy, slinking intrusion by comparison. Yet even at his strongest, he brought little of his personality with him. But the old witch burned with the intensity of the sun in Corvus' mind, commanding his attention. He doubted she would ever be able to sneak in like Dumbledore could … but to defend against her meant fighting against the instinct to defer to her presence. To bow down and surrender. There was simply no way for him to confront her directly, or to keep her out.

So he hid instead. Even the sun could not penetrate a dense covering of clouds, after all. Whenever he felt her come too close, he shoved more clouds in her way and darted away, hiding in the cool softness. He also deliberately left some memories out for her, inconsequential ones, of playing with his little dahlias on the beach, or that first breathtaking view of the mountains. Yet she kept after him, disregarding these recent images after a cursory inspection. He needed something significant to capture her attention.

He finally threw the memory of Voldemort battling Dumbledore at the Ministry at her, and well disguised within it his other defences. That day had brought him so much doubt, and so much regret, it was easy to infuse the memory with it.

She examined this one in detail, getting lost in following the fight. It had admittedly involved some rather impressive spell-work. And Remus had told them she pretty much was who he had modelled Corvus' supposed guardian on. She had been an accomplished dueller when younger, and even now remained a renowned scholar. So this fight easily caught her attention. She did not appear to notice his additions, nor that he continued to hedge her presence in on all sides. By the time she finally did, it was too late. He swarmed her with clouds from all directions, using them to push her away. And out of his mind altogether.

He grimaced at the headache which immediately assaulted him, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. Not surprising really, as it had taken most of his strength to force her out. His father wordlessly pressed a potion vial into his hand, which he downed without hesitation.

When he felt able to look at her again, he returned his eyes to their hostess. He did not expect to find her gazing back at him sadly, with tears glittering in her lashes.

"Oh, querido. You are much too young to know how to do something like that," she said, giving him a sorrowful smile.

"What do you mean, Señora?" Snape interjected.

"To make the viewer feel _regret_ … is only possible when the one using this defence has suffered much of it himself. The same holds true for the doubt. And for a young man of ..." she looked at Corvus questioningly.

"Sixteen, Señora," he replied, feeling discomfited at her explanation.

"To be able to do this at your age, to such a degree … you must have suffered much," she said, her expression sympathetic.

He gave her a somewhat tremulous smile in return.

"However, your strength is in need of much work," she continued with a note of sternness in her voice, but stopped when Snape raised a hand. "Yes?"

"Señora Moralez, my student has only received proper training in the arts for a few weeks," he told her quietly.

"De veras? Then while my comment still stands, I must admit to being most impressed," she allowed, the admonishing edge to her voice gone. "You have certainly dispelled any doubts I had about your request. Not only are you quite able at handling memories, you also have a strong sense of self for someone your age," she concluded, giving him another penetrating look. "Teenagers usually define themselves more in terms of outward perceptions than you appear to."

He nodded, meeting her gaze squarely. "Yes, Señora. I know."

"Ah. Another of those things I am better off not knowing," she said after a moment when he did not elaborate. "And likely linked to whatever experiences brought you such doubt and regret. But no matter. I agree. We will do this tomorrow, however, when you are rested. For now though, I would like to see if what Remus claimed is true."

He looked from her to the werewolf in puzzlement.

"He told me you are very accomplished for your age at duelling and spell-casting. Which this is not a good location for," she said with an ironic glance around the room filled with old furniture and knick-knacks. "But he also boasted of your ability to cast a corporeal Patronus, apparently since you were thirteen?"

"Oh. Well, yes," he admitted, giving his teacher a slightly betrayed look. "But ..."

"Yes?"

"The last time I tried, I could not. They," he indicated his two companions with a tilt of his head. "Believe it is shifting form."

"Ah. Still, you might try again? Performing it should help lift what gloom is left behind from the Occlumency, no?"

"Not if you mourn another loss," he told her quietly. "I was ... fond of the form it took. But, I will attempt it," he concluded with a wry smile.

He tried to feel self-confident as he took out his wand and thought of a good memory to use. A choice which was easy in the end, and did actually bring a real smile to his lips. He let himself sink into the feeling of contentment at being held, mixed with the elation of seeing his scar changed. Which combined into one glorious feeling of happiness. He whipped his wand through the motion, firmly speaking the intonation.

He really didn't expect anything but the dense fog again.

Instead he found himself watch bemusedly as a beautiful silvery bird emerged from the tip of his wand. His eyes followed its flight around the room, until it finally came to a rest in front of him on long legs, tucking its wings in. It looked a bit like a stork, though it clearly was not multicoloured. It had a long neck, curving into a very distinctive form like the letter S now that it was at rest, and it appeared fairly slender in build. There were also a couple of long, thin feathers sticking out oddly from the back of its head.

"Es una garceta," Señora Moralez exclaimed, looking quite fascinated with the bird.

"Ehm, what?" Corvus said, feeling stunned and euphoric at the same time.

Because he had a Patronus again. It wasn't as impressively massive as Prongs had been, though it looked more graceful and ethereally beautiful. But something about it spoke to him. Seeing it made him feel good. Which forced him to admit to himself that Prongs wouldn't have. Not anymore. He would have felt ... guilty. Which rather explained why the old form was gone.

"Una garceta," she repeated, sounding slightly frustrated. "I am sorry, I do not know the English name. You would not get them in Britain I think. Too cold, maybe. But there are breeding pairs in Spain."

"Don't look at me," Remus said, inspecting the silvery bird. "It looks like a small stork to me."

"I think it is a kind of heron," Snape judged, leaning forward to get a better view of it.

"Ah, of course. I don't think we have many of those in England, no. Well, congratulations, cub. I will have to look up meanings for you. If I might impose on you for the use of your library, dear Inez ..."

The old witch waved his request away with a careless hand. "Por supuesto," she declared, smiling gently at Corvus. "I think it is a very good form. Very beautiful, too."

"Thank you," he replied, watching the Patronus slowly fade away as he let up on his concentration to maintain it. He finally lifted his eyes and met his father's gaze instead. The pride in them was more heart-warming than a dozen loud congratulations.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Much later, Corvus sat on the windowsill of his darkened guest-room, staring out into the night-time streets of Seville. Which were amazingly different from their day-time appearance. Then, it had only been some tourists daring the sun-heated outside. Compared to the throng of people filling the streets now, the city had been deserted. Now it teemed with life. Normal life.

The last few days were a taste of what a normal life might be like. Well, at least normal for wizards. He was actually able to relax and enjoy himself, though, which had been a rare occurrence until now. It was also an opportunity for him and his father to get to know each other better … under circumstances that were not stressful or demanded one or both of them keep up a mask. He was simply a teenager, experiencing a lot of new things for the first time. And he was able to interact with a fairly relaxed Severus Snape. One without the pressure of being either a spy or a teacher.

But the best of it all was that none of the people they met here had any expectations of them. They were merely strangers, visitors, guests, or new acquaintances who might or might not turn out to be interesting or likeable. But neither famous nor notorious. He would never understand why people could _want_ to be famous. It was so much nicer to be just a face in the crowd. To be just … himself, and not constantly met with preconceptions.

Unfortunately, those precious few days were now almost over. One more day here, and the day after a bit of shopping in wizarding Madrid, and then he would be back home. His life would turn into a whirlwind of activity, as they sorted out everything from his emancipation to getting him ready for Hogwarts. Corvus Black would also get introduced to a lot of new people, few of whom held any good-will for him. And previously knowing some of these people as Harry Potter, whom they liked, would be … challenging. And probably painful.

He was not looking forward to that at all. Nor was he looking forward to the reception he would get as _Bellatrix_' son.

Pile all his training, and the preparation for the teacher's evaluations on top, as well as having to remember tons of things he should or shouldn't do … it was shaping up to look like a real nightmare. But …

He wasn't alone. He had help he could rely on. People who would support him, and give him a shoulder to lean on. He didn't have to struggle on his own. He had a new family to confide in, and help him out when he couldn't handle things by himself. And they would be _adults_. Fully trained, competent people, who were qualified teachers and Aurors. Not kids, like Ron and Hermione. Sure, his friends had done their best. They had proven themselves. But …

When it came to actually knowing things, and being able to accomplish something …

Adults, especially those in a position of authority, who had strings to pull, could get things done kids just couldn't, or at least they managed much easier. They had always struggled in the dark, with only Hermione's book-knowledge to rely on. But there were things Hermione, muggle-born as she was, simply did not know. Because there was stuff you could not find in books. And Ron's knowledge of the wizarding world was occasionally flawed, and tended to be biased at the best of times. Most of all, they had lacked experience.

Sure, they had managed. Mostly. But if there'd been reliable adults for him to turn to in his earlier years … many things might have turned out differently.

Sirius would likely still be alive if he'd been able to trust in his father then. Because that disaster at the Department of Mysteries could have been avoided so easily. And working together, they might have figured out Crouch's impersonation of Moody. They would likely not have been able to keep Voldemort from resurrecting … but Cedric's death might not have happened. Snape would also never have let his son suffer under Umbridge's blood-quill … if he'd known. So many things that had caused him pain or anguish could have been avoided … if only they'd all worked together.

Instead they had usually thought the worst of each other, and consequently been at cross-purpose. Such a shame ...

Still, old regrets served no purpose, aside from reminding him what not to do in the future. He had to rely on the others, and work with them. Which meant not letting past resentments get in the way, especially where his father was concerned. Because Snape really had changed how he treated Harry …

Harry, who was now Corvus. It was getting easier to think of himself like that. The different surroundings, and all the new experiences this week had helped a lot with that, too. Corvus Black could now get along fairly easily with his padre, and actually quite liked him, to be honest. And it was equally obvious Snape _wanted_ this unexpected son … of his. That he didn't see Corvus as just a burden, or a duty. Not when his father did things such as come to the beach with them … which was hardly important for the bigger picture. But it mattered to Corvus, the son, that his father had been there. That he made the effort, even though it clearly made him uncomfortable.

Almost as if his thoughts had drawn the man, he heard the door open, followed by soft steps approaching his perch at the window.

"You should go to bed," Snape said quietly, coming to stand beside his son. "You want to be well rested for tomorrow."

"I know. I was kind of waiting for you."

"Are you worried about the memory-transfer?"

He shrugged lightly, leaning his head against the window-frame. "Not particularly. You all seem to think it won't be a problem … and I can't really judge for myself. Not as if I have done this kind of thing before."

"You will be fine. I spoke with Señora Moralez earlier. She knows what she is doing."

He peered up at the dark figure of his father with a wry smile. "Given your usual protectiveness, I doubt you'd allow it otherwise."

"Indeed. Unfortunately, much as I would prefer to be present to make sure everything goes smoothly, I need to leave beforehand."

"You are leaving soon then?"

"Very early in the morning. I do not believe you would wish to be woken up that early."

Snape's tone was slightly mocking. But Corvus had learned not to read the worst into his father's words. And to see the wry humour often hidden in the sarcasm.

"And later you have to go to … _him_?"

He heard a heavy sigh. "Yes. I cannot avoid it. You know that."

"Of course," he agreed, trying to keep his voice free of emotion. "I can still wish you need not, though. But … stay safe, padre. Please."

"Always. For you, hijo mío."

He ran a hand through his tumbled locks, and finally looked up to fully meet the dark gaze of his father. And smiled. How far they had come.

"Go to bed, Corvus. And do not forget your exercises. Or the tapes."

"I won't. Good night, padre."

.

oOoOoOoOo

The next day he was strolling through the magnificent gardens of the palace of Alcázar in Seville with Remus. The place felt incredibly tranquil and peaceful to him. He could have lingered here for ages. Unfortunately they only had an afternoon … but it was something to remember for possible future visits.

"So how are you dealing with the memories?" Remus asked quietly when they stopped to admire a beautifully carved fountain.

Corvus shrugged, watching the falling droplets glitter in the sunlight. "I have not really … assimilated them yet. And I just got glimpses during the process. But as far as I can tell, she mostly gave me a whole load of social interactions. Nothing very personal, I think. She seems very good at this. Fortunately," he added with a wry roll of his eyes.

Remus chuckled. "You mean she has a rather overbearing presence? She certainly is quite a character."

"Oh yes. I am still keeping it all separate, though I don't know how that will hold up while I sleep."

"Maybe you will have dreams of it then."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes. She said that could happen."

"Which is likely why she insisted we stay another night, instead of moving to Madrid like I had originally planned. She probably wants to monitor you tonight. However, it will mean cutting tomorrow's shopping short ..."

"Do I really need anything but a wand?"

"I thought we could get you some fancy robes in the Spanish style."

Corvus grimaced. "You know I dislike clothes shopping."

"Of course, cub. But at the moment you don't have any proper robes yet, and you will need some for the Ministry and Gringotts. And if they scream 'foreigner' ..."

"All the better," he finished. "Oh, all right. Loose over-robes are not too horrible to shop for, I guess. But what else do I need?"

"A lot of books maybe? Otherwise, to be honest I don't know. What would a Spanish student have that's different?"

"I am supposed to be home-schooled, remember? Books are a good idea, though, that way I can practise my Spanish and add to my disguise at the same time. But, really, what else would be different?"

"No idea. Still ..."

"If the two of us can't think of anything, the other students likely will not either. And there is always mail-order, or getting something through your friends, no?"

Remus sighed, looking rueful. "You have me out-argued. And we should easily be able to manage a wand, a few robes and a bookshop tomorrow."

"Good. Now tell me about my new Patronus, dearest teacher mine."

"Oh, is that me? I would have thought Severus to have gained that title by now."

Corvus snorted in derision. "Nah. Five horrible years of potions are not forgotten _that_ easily. Though I rather like how he treats me now," he admitted with a smile. "However, I do prefer your teaching style. You make things interesting, and you manage to mingle subjects together so nicely."

"Why, thank you. I shall have to declare you my dearest student, too, if you keep buttering me up like that," Remus told him with a grin. "Anyway, you wanted to know about the heron. Your particular type is also known as a little egret, by the way. They plumage is all white, and the males have those feathers at the back of their head during the breeding season."

"Ah. Yeah, those looked a bit odd."

"Indeed. Now the heron actually carries quite a bit of symbolism, I found. The most obvious one being tranquillity, calm and stillness."

"All right," Corvus said dubiously, trying to find a connection to himself for that meaning.

"This is of course largely due to its hunting method … a heron will often stand perfectly still for ages while waiting to make the perfect catch. And then it will strike with amazing speed. It therefore also signifies taking advantage of opportunities. Does that sound at all like Mr. Youngest Seeker in a century to you? Or like this kid I know who's survived some pretty bad odds?"

"Oh. Well. Maybe a little bit."

"The heron is also known for solitude and self-reliance. It is not a very social animal, preferring to hunt alone."

"Do I want to be like that?"

"The question is more, are you?"

"I guess so," he admitted with a sigh. He couldn't deny that he always had a tendency to do things on his own … no doubt reinforced by his lack of trust in others. He usually went to brood by himself when he was troubled. He found it hard to confide in others. He also often felt suffocated when crowded by people. All in all, those were not exactly the hallmarks of a very social person, were they?

"However, for all its solitude, the heron is perfectly capable of working together with a nesting partner. In fact, they build their nests in teamwork. So they are independent and usually loners, but can work together well, too. And since it is a water-bird, and at home in three of the elements, it also stands for versatility and being open to changes."

"Hmm. That doesn't sound half bad."

Remus reached out and ruffled the curls, earning himself a disgruntled look in return.

"It also signifies resourcefulness and determination. I think you will definitely have to agree with that one, cub."

"When you put it like that … I guess I can see quite a bit of myself in it."

"Hmm, I'd say so. And of course in old Egyptian mythology, the heron or rather Bennu bird as it was called, was a symbol of rebirth. Which you are sort of going through at the moment, aren't you?"

"Yeah ..."

"Corvus, to be honest, I believe the change of your Patronus has less to do with the loss of James as a father, and a lot more with your Occlumency trigger. I mean consider the nature of clouds … "

"Oh. Of course."

Because here was the connection to calm and tranquillity he'd missed earlier. Clouds were perfectly patient, too. As well as constantly changing. And when you floated about contentedly, you hardly needed company, either. Seen like that, the heron totally made sense.

It also meant he really wasn't a Gryffindor anymore. Because that was the house of the loud and boisterous, always looking for activity. Never still. Like the stag, it no longer matched him. He would now be the heron, patiently waiting to make his strike. Which should help him fit in nicely with his father's snakes. Less poisonous, but also a lot … freer. Free to fly away anytime. And at home wherever he came to rest.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"My Lord, I come bearing important news," Severus stated rather dramatically, prostrating himself at Voldemort's feet and kissing the hem of the monster's robes. Keeping his revulsion well hidden only through long practise. The last week had spoiled him, it seemed.

"That you should, after your very short and cryptic message of last week, Severus," his supposed master hissed, narrowing his eyes in displeasure. "It had better be worthwhile, or you will relearn why it is not a good idea to make me wait."

He sighed inwardly. The mighty Dark Lord so enjoyed his drama. As well as pointless cruelty. But if it were not for the wizard's need to pose and have an audience, he would likely have been rather more successful with his plans. The increased megalomania he exhibited since his return was a symptom that something was quite wrong with the wizard. Spending a decade as a disembodied spirit had clearly degraded his mental stability. Not that Severus could really complain about the fact. It was after all more than a little convenient for anyone who needed to exploit such a weakness. The old Voldemort would have been much harder too fool.

He set his face into a disdainful sneer as he rose to his knees. "The delay was due to our most _esteemed_ headmaster," Severus said, making the words drip with heavy sarcasm. "He all but locked me up in Hogwarts, with an excuse that was flimsy at best. But unless I wished to risk my cover, I had to follow his directions. He finally saw fit to release me today, and I hastened to report to you as soon as it was safe to do so, my Lord."

"And you had no means to send a message?"

"My Lord, the unfortunate event of Lucius landing himself in Azkaban has robbed me of my most secure route of communication, I fear. And the old fool blocked all other avenues … I was only able to send that short missive as I hastened to Hogwarts after he ordered me there," Severus explained, bowing his head submissively.

"Hmpf. Let us hear what you have to report then. I shall decide on your punishment afterwards ..." Voldemort said sibilantly, his tone of voice promising unpleasantness.

From the corner of his eyes Severus could see Bellatrix lean forward, her face a mask of savage anticipation. She was another one who delighted in pointless cruelty, and was mentally damaged. Although of course she had been quite warped as long as he had known her. Really, it begged the question how the witch could have birthed someone like Corvus. Seeing how outwardly similar she looked to her son made him shiver. Oh, but he had such a _lovely_ surprise waiting for her …

"My Lord, Dumbledore ordered me to stay at Hogwarts for the last week. He claimed the newly upgraded wards required the presence of one of the teachers keyed into them to keep them maintained. Frankly, I do question that, since it was never thus in the past. He also claimed I was the only one available at that point in time ... and then he closed the castle off completely … the floo, the Owlery, everything."

"Is the old fool getting paranoid then?"

"It seemed to dismay him greatly that you managed to lure his precious Golden Boy out from under his protections, my Lord. However, aside from strengthening the wards, he has also implemented a new kind that might prove … troublesome. Or at the very least, inconvenient."

"Is that so? In what way?"

"It alerts him to the presence of the Dark Mark. I believe he plans on tying it into a repulsion ward as well."

"That could indeed be awkward. Why did he not put up such wards long ago, though, if he is capable of it?"

"I fear that is beyond my knowledge, my Lord. But it is likely he has been working on them for a while."

"But what about yourself, Severus? Surely he has not forgotten about _your_ Mark?"

He smiled nastily. "Indeed, he has not. He had to allow for exemptions. And having an undisturbed week to inspect that ward … "

"You have found it?" Voldemort actually sounded pleased.

"Yes, my Lord. However, it can only be done from the inside and by one keyed into the wards. And it is complicated … like tying new threads into a completed tapestry. I fear it takes time."

"Still, you can do it?"

"Indeed. You are thinking of the younger Malfoy, my Lord?"

"Yes, Severus. There is something I wish him to do. It would be … rather inconvenient if he could not return to school undetected, as he already bears my Mark."

"I should be able to allow him inside without rousing the wards, my Lord. And so far it only warns Dumbledore. Thus it would not present a hindrance in case you wished to attack the castle."

"You will inform me if the old fool changes it, of course."

"Certainly, my Lord. Now for what I believe is the true reason why he kept me from your presence ..."

"I hope you have not managed to lose his trust, Severus?" The displeasure was very obvious this time. As was the implied threat.

"I think he simply wanted to make absolutely sure that no word of this could even potentially reach you, my Lord. He played his hand exceedingly close with this information. I suspect locking me up may actually have been a much convoluted plan on his part to save me from your displeasure. I am quite positive the dithering fool still trusts me to be on his side," he said with an unpleasant smirk.

"I hope so … for your sake, my servant. Now tell me what he thought so important."

"Apparently the Order of Fools have stumbled upon a hitherto unknown heir … to the House of Black, my Lord."

"Black!" Bellatrix exclaimed, all but jumping out of her seat. "Oh, tell us, what pretender have they found? Some ickle little bastard baby-boy of one my _dearest_ dead cousins maybe?" she crowed with disturbingly wide-eyed delight.

"Oh no, indeed not. I fear we are talking of _your_ bastard child, _dearest_ Bellatrix," he told her with a vicious smile, in a voice dripping with venom.

He had to admit, her utterly dumbfounded expression was truly enjoyable.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: The last chapter earned some criticism for being too much of a filler. This is unfortunately true and I will try to avoid it in the future. However, apparently my brain did have some purpose with it after all, which became apparent once I started on this chapter. Because it demonstrated _normal_. And well, normal probably just is a bit boring. I then spent far too much time wrestling with this chapter, and I am still not entirely satisfied with it, but it will have to be good enough. I really do not want to get hung up on a chapter and stop posting because my perfectionism has a problem with 'good enough'.

There is another stumbling block coming up soon though, which is Ron's reaction to Corvus, both short-term and long-term. So far I am rather undecided on this point. In many stories he does not take well to a Slytherin Harry, and the unknown Slytherin son of Bellatrix is undeniably worse. Plus there might be all kinds of resentment coming into play. But in the long run he might eventually be won over by a fairly charismatic and non-evil Corvus. The question is just how unreasonable should I make Ron? I would really appreciate some opinions to help me make up my mind.

As always, thanks for the reviews, and special thanks to Thayf13 who suggested the heron Patronus a while back … I was really wondering what to take and when I read 'heron' it was like: perfect! Just what I was looking for.

oOoOoOoOo


	21. Te Dejo Madrid

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"The wand-maker's shop should be in the next side-street to the left," Remus said quietly, perusing his map yet again. "I think."

El recinto de la magica had turned out to be a fascinating, but also confusing place. And it was very easy to get lost there. They had eventually given up trying to follow Remus' vague memories and asked in one of the shops. Apparently, they were not the only ones to get lost, thus there was actually a map to be had for free. It certainly made sense from the shop-keepers' point of view. They wanted their customers to be able to find them, after all.

"And here I thought you'd been here before," Corvus quipped sarcastically.

Remus flashed him a grin in return. "You know you are starting to sound like your father?" he asked amusedly.

"Wouldn't surprise me," he muttered darkly. He was feeling a tad apprehensive about the whole thing. What if they couldn't find a wand that worked for him? He had to suppress a strong desire to chew on his finger-nails out of nervousness.

The other wizard just chuckled. "Well, here we are. Finally," he admitted with some self-deprecation and pushed open a door, which caused a chime to go off loudly.

The sound brought the wand-maker from a back-room, wiping his hands on a towel and eyeing his new customers with interest. Remus smoothly took over, talking in rapid Spanish with the dark-visaged wizard who looked like he might be a Gitano. The man's dark brown eyes mustered Corvus with open curiosity after Remus gestured in his direction, and he was beckoned forward. The wand-maker then gave Corvus a crooked smile which brought a multitude of lines alive on his sun-bronzed face.

"Pues un Inglés wants a wand for los oficiales not to know, sí?" he inquired with obvious dark amusement.

He gave the man a stiff nod. Corvus currently looked like Remus' idea of what a Mr. Smith should look like, while the werewolf himself was glamoured to appear like an average Spaniard. They wanted the wand-maker to remember a young, not particularly impressive Englishman who needed a wand without the trace, possibly for slightly nefarious purposes. This wouldn't have worked on Ollivander, who always seemed to see through glamours. But according to Remus' information, his Spanish counterpart exhibited no such abilities. He certainly gave no indication of it now. Nor did he object to selling a foreigner a wand that would have no trace.

He conducted his business in a quite different manner as well. For starters, there was no annoying tape-measure. He also didn't ask his customer to try wand after wand. He brought out a collection of wood samples instead, telling Corvus to find the one which 'warmed up' for him. He obediently ran his hand over the differently coloured and grained samples of wood. Some of them felt warmer than others, but none of them stood out until he reached a finely-grained block of wood with a reddish tint. It felt wonderfully warm when he touched it.

"This one," he said confidently.

"El cedro, eh?" the wand-maker commented, pushing the blocks of wood aside and putting a large tray which held several open boxes and bottles in front of Corvus. The boxes contained various animal parts, while the bottles were filled with mysterious ashes and liquids.

"Do not touch," he was ordered sharply. "Only feel for pull from above."

He nodded and let his hand drift an inch above the offered wand-cores. Unexpectedly, he felt a distinctive pull, and it was indeed a pull, just like the wand-maker had said, from two of the core materials. One was, unsurprisingly, a box of Phoenix feathers. The other, a bundle of long, grey hairs. He pointed both of them out to the wizard.

"¿Ambos? Tienes suerte, joven, creo que tengo algo así ya hecho," the wand-maker said with raised eyebrows. He then went on in rapid-fire Spanish, and Corvus could make out little of it. He cast a despairing look at his companion. Who chuckled lightly, but obligingly started to translate.

"He says you are lucky, because he believes he has a wand like that. He made it a few years ago when he was trying to match combination-cores with some of the more unusual woods. Apparently, this is one combination which he felt might work well together, though it's a bit peculiar," Remus told him, while the wand-maker climbed up a small ladder to reach a collection of boxes on a top-shelf. He peered at them, blowing dust off a few labels, and finally pulled one of them out with a satisfied sound.

"Here, try this," he ordered curtly, after depositing the box in front of Corvus and taking the lid off.

He peered inside. It contained a polished red-tinted wand of middling length. He plucked it out … and immediately felt a comfortable warmth spread along his arm. When he gave it a wave, he was rewarded with a wild shower of gold and silver sparks. He followed that promising performance with a _lumos_ … which lit up the wand-tip brightly. It certainly felt like his magic was flowing easily through the wand. He smiled at it, taking note of the carved handle, which gave a good grip, and the beautiful sheen of the polished wood.

The wand-maker gave Corvus a very satisfied look and launched into further explanations. Once again, Remus took pity on him and translated, because the man was speaking way too fast and unclear to make out more than the occasional word.

"Right. Now the wood is cedar, which is for those with strength of character, but who are also perceptive and hard too fool. It is well suited for wizards who will protect their loved ones fiercely, and should not be crossed, because they _will_ defend strongly. It does well in combat … especially under pressure. Which … really sounds like you, cub."

The wand-maker had paused to allow Remus to finish his translation, continuing animatedly as soon as the werewolf stopped.

"As for the core … you should know about the Phoenix feather already, I guess. It makes for a very versatile and magically powerful core … if somewhat choosy and temperamental. He says the combination of Phoenix feather and cedar is particularly good for protective spells. However, in this wand it is also plaited with Demiguise hair, which aids with transfiguration and the more subtle arts. He added that because apparently the wood is sometimes drawn to powerful Occlumens for some reason."

"Oh. So … still a wand which will do well for defence, only also suited for Occlumency?"

"Well, it is the defence of the mind, after all."

"Guess I can't argue with that," Corvus said, shaking his head in wonder and clutching the comforting length of wood tightly.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Fortunately Remus remembered that he wanted Corvus to get a couple of wand-holsters before they left the shop, and so they spent a few more minutes finding a well-fitting model. Once their purchase was complete, they retraced their steps to a fancy tailor they had passed during their fruitless search for the wand-maker.

"You have to admit, those robes just scream _style_. And foreign as well," the werewolf commented when they paused to look at the display in the shop-window before entering. Their reflections in the window-glass were back to looking like themselves.

"Sure, but have you seen the price-tags?"

"There aren't any, cub."

"And you know what they say about shops without price-tags?"

"I also know how much money Severus gave me to spend on this, Corvus dear. He _ordered_ me to get you something fancy."

"Ugh. Didn't he pay for all the stuff in London as well?"

"Yes, cub."

"But ..."

"You know your father is a rather famous potions master? I believe he holds a number of patents for some very popular potions, too. Plus I think he had an inheritance from his mother's side. I also don't expect he ever spends much money, living at Hogwarts and all ..."

He looked at the other man in dismay. He certainly wasn't used to anyone lavishing a lot of money on him … much less on something like a _wardrobe_. There had been the Firebolt from Sirius, of course … but that was about it. Until now.

Remus put a hand on Corvus' arm and looked him firmly in the eye. "Cub, do not question this. Go with the flow. To some extent it is probably guilt on his part, but mostly it is simply necessary for your disguise. And from what Sirius said, once you are Lord Black, you will be _loaded_. You cannot go around getting upset about spending money. That would be very much out of character for Corvus Black, you know?"

"But you understand ..." he began, looking at the older wizard imploringly.

Who nodded, and patted his arm consolingly. "Sure, I do. But don't think about it. The old guy, he was this poor orphan raised by stingy relatives. The new one has never lacked for anything. So this is all part of the show. Now come on and let's see what we can find."

He sighed unhappily but allowed Remus to lead him into the fancy tailor-shop. Which was … full of richness. In colour, and fabric. In design and execution. Some of the robes were more works of art than clothing, at least in Corvus' eyes. Fashioned from beautifully woven damasks of heavy silk and cotton, smooth, flowing satin and delicate lace-work, embroidery wherever you looked, and enough buttons to make even Snape happy.

It also involved trying on creation after creation. Robe after robe, brought by a helpful assistant who seemed quite taken with her handsome young customer. At least if her lingering glances were anything to go by.

He paused while doing up the golden buttons of yet another fancy creation, this one in a dark green damask with stiff embroideries in actual gold bullion at the neckline and the hems. He studied the face looking back at him. He really looked like a cross between Bellatrix, Sirius and Snape. Fortunately he seemed to have gotten all their best features. Even he had to admit he was handsome. Far too handsome. He stared into his own dark eyes. The eyes that were like his father's.

Which brought back a memory from earlier that day, when he'd taken his leave from Inez Moralez. She'd asked him to call her Inez, on the grounds that if she could gift him her memories, she could certainly allow him to use her name. She also complimented him on his looks … and just as he left, she told him he had his father's eyes. With a cheerful wink. So much for keeping that from her.

"This robe is very impressive," Remus commented from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. "Something for really formal occasions, though."

"Well, it's likely I will get invited to some of those, no?

"As Lord Black? Oh, yes. Society will be more curious than a litter of kittens."

"Joy," Corvus said, rolling his eyes sarcastically, and pushed a few loose curls back while arching his back and posing dramatically in front of the mirror.

"Do you intend to keep growing the hair out?"

"Hmm," he assented, starting to unbutton the robe again. "It took some getting used to, but now I rather like it. At least when it's tied back."

"It makes you look more like her though ..." Remus seemed somewhat at a loss.

"I guess so. But it's also very different from _Harry_."

"True."

"I think we'll take this one. Just don't tell me how much it cost, please."

He could do this as long as he didn't think about little details like that ...

"Of course, cub. So there was that lovely one in burgundy, the short black one with the silver embroidery, and the midnight-blue with the seed-pearls. And this one," the werewolf said, tallying up their selection so far. "Good thing these are mostly cut quite loose, with your slender build you ought to be able to wear them for a while."

"Yes. Certainly an advantage of the cut. It makes me feel less bad about the cost," Corvus agreed, making a face. "Now I guess I'll have a look at those simple silk robes they had in the front. Those should be good for more casual wear, or summer. Well, I say _simple_ by comparison ..."

He paused again with his hands on the last buttons, considering his whole reflection. He did rather look like a prince out of a fairy tale, with his long black locks and this beautiful robe. Snape … would very likely approve, given the other clothes he'd gotten for his son. Inez Moralez … would definitely approve, given her memories. Ron … would not understand, or be jealous. Hermione … actually, he had no idea what she would think. Not really. But the rest of Hogwarts … most would be left with their mouths hanging open. As for the girls' reactions … he didn't even want to think about _that_ one.

.

oOoOoOoOo

After a short break at an ice-cream parlour, they went to tackle a book-shop. Remus was going to look for a good selection of school-books, preferably used to add verisimilitude. Corvus meanwhile browsed through the literary shelves. With the help of one of the assistants, he soon had a sizeable collection of popular novels. He added several books on Spanish geography and culture, and a rather hefty tome on important wizarding families of the country. It would not do to be totally ignorant of that, in case he ever ran into someone knowledgeable. It might also help him understand some of Inez' memories better, if he knew a bit more about the people in them.

The book-shop also had a large stationary department. He fell in love with the shop's collection of quills, made from exotic feathers and coloured glass. They had matching ink-bottles of exquisitely blown glass, and he added several of each to his growing pile of knick-knacks. Such as an intricately inlaid wooden tray for writing implements, and a matching box with several drawers for parchments and papers. Or like that paper-weight with an open hibiscus flower forever frozen inside. For once, he did not hesitate in getting something nice for himself.

After all, those beautifully crafted things would be part of his disguise, and they had a perfectly utilitarian purpose, too. He would be able to use them for a long time. Additionally, they would be his first … souvenirs. They would remind him of this week every time he sat down at his desk to write something. As would the many prints and posters he picked from the shop's large selection. If he ran out of wall-space, he could always use the rest as gifts. In fact, there was one he had chosen with a particular target in mind ...

Amazingly, there had been money left after the tailor's. It wasn't even all gone after they went crazy in the book shop and the stationary. Fortunately, he had his new trunk to pack all their purchases away, because it had accumulated to quite a pile. And since there was still some time before they had to leave, Remus gave him a gentle push towards the Quidditch shop when Corvus gave it a longing look.

It was always nice to look at brooms, of course. It was also good to know what brands of brooms were used in Spain. It was bound to come up, since Slytherin had its share of Quidditch fanatics. And even though Corvus Black wasn't going to be a Quidditch star, he still ought to have a favourite team like any young man. So he selected a Spanish team which seemed both popular and successful, and bought some of their merchandise. And a couple of books on Quidditch in general and the teams of Spain in particular.

Quidditch would also hopefully give Corvus Black at least one topic for civil conversations with Ron Weasley, best friend of Harry Potter.

Remus met him outside the shop afterwards, and pushed a small wrapped package into his hands with a smile. Corvus gave it a dubious look, inevitably reminded of the last bundle Remus had given him.

"No blood-quill this time, cub," the werewolf said with a breathy laugh after he stood there almost frozen for long moments.

"Ehm. Yeah. Sorry, didn't think so," he protested a bit lamely.

He was still tentative about opening the package. Of course it wasn't a blood-quill. It wasn't even the right shape for one. It was simply the wrapping which had reminded him. What it was … was a lovely carved small ivory figurine of a heron taking flight, its wings half spread. He ran a finger over its tiny head, staring at it in wonderment.

"So do you like it, cub?"

"It's brilliant, Remus."

"Just a little reminder of our time here. Which unfortunately ..."

"Yeah."

"Well, put the rest of your stuff away then. Do you remember the portkey office well enough to apparate by yourself?"

Corvus closed his eyes and nodded reluctantly, his fingers still stroking the little figurine. Remember, yes. Want to, no. Because he really didn't want to go home yet. Though at least now he had a home. One where he was welcome.

.

oOoOoOoOo

He managed the apparition quite easily. So he would be able to take his test after the emancipation, and get his licence early. Which would be nice. And using his shroud of clouds, he didn't even stumble when they took the international portkey from Madrid. Another improvement. The London office was every bit as dreary and boring as the first time. Though it was rather busier at this time of day. Which happened to be late afternoon. He was almost home now. Home … but not as Harry Potter.

And that was the main reason why he was hesitating in front of the floo. Because once he stepped through, he would irrevocably be Corvus Black. He would officially be there. Openly. And since people had been made aware of him, and had a week to stew in their curiosity, there would be visitors. Until now, the only ones around had been his fellow conspirators, who knew what was going on. But after today he would have to meet people who didn't know he'd been Harry Potter, and that he already knew them. People who would expect him to be a stranger, and possibly confused. Or maybe even hostile.

They wouldn't be looking at his scar and seeing the myth of Harry Potter, the Saviour. Instead they would look at his face and see the legacy of his mother, the Death Eater. At best he'd be seen as a Black, which wasn't all that much better. But there simply was no escaping the fact that he was, indeed, the offspring of Death Eaters.

But …

Putting it off would not help. He had chosen this on his birthday, and it was too late for second thoughts now. He turned to Remus with a pained smile. The werewolf gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then simply held out one of the containers with floo powder for him.

As they were spun away by the floo, he saw several heads turn who'd heard them name the 'Black town-house' as their destination. And thus the rumours would start ...

Mrs. Black was overjoyed to see him again, which made Corvus feel unexpectedly guilty. Fortunately she loved the present he'd gotten for her, which was a large wizarding print of a blooming garden with a fountain and butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. It would give her something to look at, and might even improve her temper. Of course people would wonder why he'd brought it for her, when he'd not known about her presence beforehand … but then he had bought quiet a few of these prints. It wasn't unreasonable he might want to sweeten her up by giving her one. In fact, he could even use that to explain why she had taken to him so soon.

Phineas Black was also pleased to have his great-something-grandson back. Apparently, Corvus' manners had improved quite a bit during the last week … without doubt helped along by Inez' memories. And being around his father and Remus, who frequently engaged in battles of witty banter, had sharpened his ability to hold his own in a conversation. Phineas also appeared to have mellowed somewhat towards Walburga. It seemed she'd taken Corvus' advice to heart and behaved better.

Another small victory.

He soon pleaded exhaustion and escaped to his room. His new room, which Dora had cleaned out last week. It was larger than his old one, and at the moment horribly bare. But tomorrow would be soon enough to start changing that.

A long shower and a change of clothes later he felt ready to meet the world again. Fortunately it was still his small world tonight. Remus was there of course, and Dora showed up for dinner. Which gave him some amusement during the meal, as he could fairly easily get one or both of them to blush by dropping innocent little comments. There were also sidelong glances thrown when they thought the other wasn't watching. Well, he would certainly not mind a 'cousin' Remus eventually. If they ever got past the 'blushing at each other' stage.

His father had sent his excuses, though he hoped to come by later. Apparently, he was held up in Hogwarts as Dumbledore needed to show him what he'd done with those new wards. He found himself actually a bit disappointed Snape wasn't there for dinner. A couple of weeks ago, Harry Potter would have been happy about the same thing. But Harry Potter seemed to be getting lost more and more every day. And somehow he didn't even feel particularly bad about that fact.

Because Harry Potter just wasn't all that real anymore.

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oOoOoOoOo

After dinner he went to visit Hedwig, who was happy to see her human again. After a few minutes of basking in each other's presence, he got her to step on his arm and took her out into the garden. He'd brought the play snitch along, and was contentedly watching her chase after it when Dora came out to join him.

"Hey, Dora," he greeted her lazily, his eyes following Hedwig's dives after the softly glowing snitch.

"Hey, yourself. So did you have a good holiday?"

"Wonderful. Really great. Absolutely loved it. Oh, and thanks for watering my seedlings," he told her. They all seemed to be doing well. Which was good, because he didn't want to disappoint Neville. At least not in this.

It wasn't as if he could change the fact that he was suddenly the son of a woman who Neville hated most fervently.

"Any time, cousin dear. So … you had a good time, and with Snape and Remus no less. I think I'm envious."

"About me having a good time with _Snape_?"

"_Remus_, anyway. But mostly you going on a ho-ly-day," she singsonged. "I want one of those, too!"

"Maybe we can arrange something in case we go back for Christmas. I could always plead the need for added security," he suggested, giving her an amused smile.

"Hmm," she said with a dreamy expression. "I believe I'd like that."

"We'll have to see then. So how was _your_ week?"

"I have to say … interesting. I was lurking here a fair bit, showing myself to who-ever was on guard. It was a great opportunity to practise my moping," she told him with a happy grin. He gave her a dubious look in return. "What? I was perfectly successful. I even got Mrs. Weasley to show up and bring me some chocolate cake because I clearly needed 'cheering up'!"

"Oh, dear. How did that go?"

"I think she wanted to come anyway and tell Harry about you, dearest cousin. She seemed to assume no-one would have told 'Harry' about 'Corvus' being brought here, and thought you should know. It was really hard not to laugh in her face."

"Why, what did she say about 'me'," he asked curiously, halfway dreading the answer. "I was there when they first found out about it, which was pretty bad. And Snape told me about her display at the Order meeting ..."

"Frankly, it went pretty much in the same vein. About how she couldn't understand how they would let this suspect stranger have Sirius' inheritance and letting the son of Death Eaters come here and what a risk it all was, and so on," Dora told him, rolling her eyes.

He sighed unhappily. "From her perspective, and given that she doesn't know Corvus is _me_ … it's not even so unreasonable. Unfortunately. I mean, if I really had the background we are creating for me, I would be rather a dark horse."

"Yeah, but to assume you'd automatically be evil just because your parents are Death Eaters?"

"I know. I think you need to be a Gryffindor to really get that prejudice. You kind of get spoon-fed on anti-Slytherin and anti-anything-Dark propaganda in that house. There is also the general assumption the younger generation will follow their parents without question."

"Meh. Just consider our family. I think we are the proof that's not true."

He looked at her thoughtfully. "It seems rather divided, doesn't it? What with your mother and Sirius ..."

"And Uncle Alphard, and Great-Aunt Dorea who married a Potter, and so on."

"Hmm, yes. Unfortunately, the Weasleys are so _very_ Gryffindor. I fear my old house can be extremely … unforgiving. And they are wearing blinkers half of the time, too. I'm not saying you should give everyone a second chance. Heck, some probably didn't even deserve their first one. But to condemn someone unseen just for who their parents are ..."

"Yeah. I fear it's not going to be easy for you with them. Anyway, I told her Dumbledore had already informed me. You, I mean. _Harry_, even," she concluded with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

He chuckled at her. "It took some of the wind out of her sails?"

"Oh, yes. She'll still be very suspicious of Corvus, of course."

"I know. The meeting tomorrow should be great fun."

"Yeah. Can't wait for it, really."

"Somehow, I don't believe we have quite the same idea of _fun_, Dora."

.

oOoOoOoOo

When Snape showed up a while later, his cousin immediately excused herself and went to look for Remus.

"Was she fleeing my presence or so eager for the wolf's?" the wizard said, looking after her with amusement.

"Both? It's good to see you well, Padre."

"I am sorry I could not come earlier, we encountered a few unexpected snags with the new ward," Snape told him sombrely. "And before you have to ask, yes the meeting with the Dark Lord went well enough. After he heard my news he was so … distracted I got away almost unscathed."

"Just a Cruciatus or two then. Nothing to worry about, eh?"

His father shot him an irritated glance but continued fairly placidly: "It was worth it. Compared to what he normally dishes out to the bearers of news which displease him, it was a pittance indeed."

He looked away and hugged himself, shivering slightly. He heard Snape sigh and then an arm came to rest across his shoulders.

"It really was not so bad, Corvus."

"This time."

"School is about to start. He never calls me much then, since he does not want to compromise my cover. And he believed my story about the new ward … which means he has to keep me in reasonable health and willing if he wants anyone marked to enter the castle ..."

"Which makes you safer, and still lets us know about them?"

"Yes. That idea of Remus' turned out to be very useful indeed. He was quite alarmed at the idea of those wards … until I dropped the other bomb."

"How did they react?"

"I will have show you the memory. The look on her face was … indescribable," Snape said with a malicious expression of delight which was just a bit disturbing.

But maybe understandable. Who was he to judge, anyway. He, who had tried to _crucio_ the woman … who was his mother. He suppressed another shudder with some difficulty.

"Did you really have to tell him about me?"

Because the idea that they had discussed him, and likely in unfavourable terms, was quite disconcerting. Nor did he want to think about the way Snape had to act at those meetings ...

"He would have learned of it as soon as you went to the Ministry. As such, he gained no advantage from it, and it helped establish me as his spy. If I can do that feeding him essentially useless knowledge ..."

"Sorry, you are right of course. So she was … shocked?"

"Utterly. So was everybody else at first. Then the Dark Lord started to question her … and it did not help her that she had no memory of it. The very idea she might have kept this from him greatly incensed him. The brothers Lestrange did not appear very happy, either. I suspect she is in for an unpleasant time. They already had to endure the shame of her constantly cuckolding her husband, but to actually bear a child for someone else …"

"I'm very happy it was someone else, Padre."

"So am I, son of mine. In any case, he did of course attempt to verify my information … fortunately it has gotten relatively easy to fool him. All those years without a body have definitely left him damaged. But he was so upset with Bellatrix that he quite forgot about me afterwards. Aside from ordering me to find proof that you were really Bellatrix' son. And to discover who your father is, as well. I believe the first will be surprisingly easy, while somehow I will completely fail at the second ..." Snape looked rather amused at the thought.

"But enough of that. How did things go in Spain after I left?"

"The memory-transfer went well. As far as I can tell. At least there don't seem to be any problems with assimilating them. And most of the memories she gave me were social interactions. You know, of her dealing with well-behaved _males_."

"Which means you basically got an instant crash-course in how to behave as a well-bred Spanish gentleman?"

"Sort of. And an insight into what a female thinks of that behaviour, too, at least based on her reactions."

Snape appeared very amused now. "Most helpful," he commented slyly. "Especially at your age, when one tends to be clueless about the female gender."

Corvus gave him a dark look but continued: "It certainly gave me a basis to model my behaviour on. I now also know which knife to use when, because I _remember_ using it. And I have plenty of examples of polite conversations in Spanish, which should help me with that, too."

"So another good idea of the wolf? At this rate, we shall be much indebted to him."

"Just remember that when he turns into your nephew-in-law," he said cheekily, which made Snape look rather pained. "But yes, I think it was really helpful. It makes me feel a lot more confident about being able to pull this off."

.

oOoOoOoOo

A while later, when it had gone dark outside, Corvus took his father up to his new room to show him their purchases. Snape had already examined his son's new wand, of course. The retelling of the wand-maker's explanations about the cedar wood and the Demiguise hair regarding its suitability for an Occlumens caused some raised eyebrows. But all the man would say was a quiet 'I really should not be surprised anymore about anything where you are concerned', followed by congratulations on an excellent new wand. He also approved of their selection of robes.

Which led to the inevitable discussion about the money.

"You didn't have to ..."

"Yes, I did. And no, it was not a bribe … or an attempt to make up for five years of bad treatment. More like … making up for sixteen years of missed presents ..."

Corvus lowered his eyes and fiddled with one of his buttons. "I suppose I'm not used to presents either ..."

"As I am not used to giving them. We will find a middle ground with time."

He looked back up into the dark eyes of his father. "All right. But so you know … I don't expect anything. Really. And ..."

"It makes you uncomfortable. I realise this … now. Much too late. Another misconception, I fear, left over from when I thought you spoiled," Snape said with a rueful expression. "If it makes you feel better, simply think of this as part of your disguise."

"Remus already said that ..."

"And he was right," he was interrupted firmly. "Just as you were right when you told me that you tend to brood. Put this from your mind. Please. You have much else to occupy your thoughts … and no time to waste pondering whether I can afford a few trinkets, however expensive they may be. Or if you are worthy of them. You can always 'pay' me back for them by doing your very best … both in your new life and in school."

"Quite the extortionate price … if I wasn't planing on doing that anyway," Corvus retorted with a smile at the irony.

"Yet it is the only price most parents will ask from their children, isn't it? Or do you think it _normal_ that parents should provide for their offspring, and then demand the cost back later?"

"No. Of course not," he admitted with a heavy sigh. " But I didn't exactly have the best role-models for a _normal_ family, did I?"

"Indeed. Forget anything those moronic, neglectful Muggles showed you. You are my son, no matter that we did not know this for so long. No matter how I treated you in the past, it was always my duty, and my privilege as your father, to provide for you. So given how I failed to do so until now … please indulge my desire to make it up to you. Especially when doing so will improve our chances of success."

Corvus gave his father a long, considering look. There was no arguing against that logic. He could not afford to cling to a stupid, pointless pride or an equally stupid desire to be independent. Because for Snape, the money likely really did not matter. Behaving differently, however, did. And the man had sacrificed his own pride several times over the last week, for his son's sake. To prove he was being serious. So this wasn't a case of being bribed or bought. It was merely necessity … with a hefty dash of guilt.

The other reason why he struggled with his new wardrobe was quite simply that he wasn't used to running around in fancy clothes. They still made him uncomfortable. But it was all a show. The new clothes were nothing more than costumes. Just as he'd gotten used to the damn curls, he would get used to the clothes. It wasn't as if dressing well was suddenly going to turn him into someone spoiled or greedy. So it was all a matter of being sensible, and not letting this get in the way. Because it was really stupid. Just a stupid habit, drilled into him by Lily's stupid relatives. It would be discarded. Eventually. Until then, he'd have to disregard and suppress it as best as he could.

"So, what insights did you find on your latest cloud?" Snape's voice was full of his usual dry sarcasm.

"Oh, nothing noteworthy. Only lots of stupid habits," he admitted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "They shall be thrown overboard as soon as I find the time to do so."

"Were you always this sarcastic or are you picking it up from me?"

"Hmm. Probably both. After all, I did just spend a week with you and Remus engaged in happy banter," Corvus said with a sideways look at the older wizard. "And I guess I was always more so than I let on."

"Why hide it?"

"Partly because of my friends. Ron wouldn't understand sarcasm if it bit him in the … behind, and Hermione always got huffy. But mostly … being sarcastic is not the best idea when people tend to misunderstand and misconstrue _everything_ you say in any case. If I'd started going around saying things which could be taken the wrong way … the Prophet would have had another field day. I spent too much time as a prospective Dark Lord as it was."

"Which was the main reason you hid as the Golden Gryffindor," Snape said with raised eyebrows and an expression of sudden understanding.

"Can you imagine what everybody would have said, if I had gone into Slytherin when I was eleven?"

"Unfortunately … yes. I suppose I really cannot fault you for denying the hat … even though you did it mostly for the wrong reasons."

"Probably. But as I said, I didn't know any better. And it worked out for the best … mostly. At least no-one will be upset or surprised if _Corvus Black_ ends up in Slytherin. As they would have been for Harry Potter ..."

"Yes, indeed," Snape agreed with a distracted look on his face. "Speaking of upset and people being surprised, I did want to let you see my memory ..."

"Will this involve Occlumency?"

"Certainly, son of mine."

"Oh, great. I was missing my daily headache."

"Only practise will make that go away," his father told him without sympathy.

"I know, I know. And you don't get to see dumbfounded Death Eaters every day. That should be worth a headache."

"Believe me, this one is worth far more than that."

"Like a Cruciatus or two?"

"Whatever shall I do with you, Corvus?"

"Stay alive, please?"

"I promised, didn't I?"

"Actually no, you did not quite."

His father sighed. "I cannot promise you I will succeed. Because life … is never without risk. But I promise I will do my utmost not to die. Will that suffice?"

"Hopefully."

At least his forlorn declaration got him another almost hug. But Snape was unfortunately right … some promises simply could not be made.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Thanks for all the reviews! And further thanks for everyone who told me they enjoy my style of writing! Every aspiring writer likes some validation and encouragement to keep going. Oh, and thanks for the helpful suggestions regarding the shopping as well. As for my question regarding Ron, as expected I received some vastly differing viewpoints and thoughts on what I should do with him. Which still helped me make up my mind, so once again thanks. I hope I have thanked everyone enough (and not too much), but the response to the last chapter was just so very nice.

I have decided Ron will initially not react very well to Corvus, but for actual _reasons_. Such as suspicion (the guy is a stranger and the son of Death Eaters!), resentments (Corvus is rich, handsome, and talented. He is also an exotic stranger and thus all the girls coo over him), jealousy (all the girls AND Hermione coo over him), and finally a dash of prejudice (he went into Slytherin!). However, it will not be a stupid or horribly immature Ron. Therefore he will eventually come around. That's not saying they will be great friends, but that Ron will at be least civil and not consider Corvus evil. We'll see how soon, though. I leave that up to the mysterious parts of my brain who actually do the writing.

oOoOoOoOo


	22. An Orderly Meeting

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

The next morning, Remus helped Corvus to find a few more pieces of furniture for his very bare new room. It currently only held a bed, a wardrobe and … nothing else. Dora had rejected the rest of what had been in there for being too unpleasant or decrepit. Their search involved hunting through some of the dark, dusk-shrouded rooms and attics on the top floor, where Mrs. Weasley's cleaning had not reached. Which meant the whole enterprise soon turned into a lesson on how to detect curses and spot dangerous creatures that might nest in wizarding households.

"We'll have to get these rooms thoroughly cleansed of Dark magic and cursed items before we let the elf into them," Remus said with a grimace, while trying to dislodge the clinging remains of a spider-web that had gotten caught in his hair earlier.

"She should start with the rooms we actually use anyway," Corvus pointed out, attempting to get the curse-detection spell right this time. "_Deprerende et ostende exsecrationes_."

"You keep stumbling over the first verb."

"I know," he said with some irritation. "Deprerende … it's a damn tongue-twister!"

"But that was correct."

"It's not so hard when I concentrate on the one word … but take the whole incantation and the wand-movement together ..."

"Just keep trying," Remus encouraged him. "I'll go check out that desk you liked meanwhile. There was definitely something nasty in one of the drawers."

"At this rate, we will have quite the collection of nasties, and we just looked over some of the furniture up here."

"Well, _you_ fancied that display case full of Dark objects in the last room, cub."

"Why anybody would want a display case full of cursed stuff in their bedroom is beyond me," Corvus said with a shake of his head. "But you have to admit the cabinet itself is very nice. _Deprerende et ostende exsecrationes__._"

"You got the whole incantation right this time, cub. But the timing of the wand-movement was off, I'm afraid."

He sighed in frustration and glared at the dusty upholstered armchair he was trying to check for curses. It was not likely to be cursed anyway, but you never knew in this house. He also dearly wanted to get the spell right. However, getting all worked up would only make it worse. So he called up the by now very familiar white blankness instead. Slipping into the calm rhythm of a breathing exercise felt almost like second nature as well. He mentally repeated the phrase several times, trying to simultaneously move his new cedar wand in the complicated pattern the spell demanded. Finally he nodded to himself and spoke it aloud.

"_Deprerende et ostende exsecrationes_."

A glowing cloud spread from his wand to the chair, completely enveloping it before finally sinking into the shabby dark green chintz upholstery. Nothing further happened, which meant the chair was not cursed. Well, not that it was likely to have been … but better safe than sorry.

"Well done," Remus said quietly, coming over and repeating the spell with the same effect. "Here, try it on this book I found in one of the desk-drawers."

This time it took him only a couple of tries to make the spell work. And the glowing cloud turned an ugly purple before it disappeared. He gave his teacher a quizzical look.

"Right. This spell is the most thorough there is at detecting curses, and the colour tells you a little about how bad they are. Purple means it's rather nasty. But the spell is limited to that basic information. However, since you want to finish getting the furniture to your room … finding out more about what kind of curse it is, and maybe even removing it, will have to wait for another time."

With that the werewolf levitated the book onto a square of heavy silk fabric. A flick of his wand wrapped it up and then the package was sent into a chest, which already contained several other silk-wrapped items with unknown curses. They had butchered a particularly moth-eaten silk curtain for this purpose, since it seemed quite beyond any hope for repair anyway.

"And the silk is why?"

"Because silk insulates magic to some extent, and putting items with different curses directly together is a bad idea," Corvus repeated his earlier lecture dutifully.

"Exactly. Now I couldn't find anything else in the desk, so let's take that and the chair downstairs," Remus said, flicking his wand again. The desk rose at his silent command, and he began to carefully manoeuvre it out through the door-frame.

Corvus meanwhile stared at the armchair in dismay. Because the other part of today's lesson had been his first attempts at silent casting. The teacher had asked him to try any of the simple, well-known spells silently several times, before doing them normally. And he had this expression of faint disappointment every time Corvus ended up casting the various levitating and cleaning spells aloud. It was more effective than any scolding. Because he'd much rather not see that look yet again.

However, frustration was not going to help. So he took refuge in another breathing exercise, before attempting to do _wingardium leviosa_ silently. Unfortunately, the chair remained stubbornly earthbound even after several tries. Neither did it rise after getting glared at for good measure. He was about to give up and do the spell aloud when Remus returned.

"You know, are you actually trying to visualise the result?"

Corvus gave him a long look.

"What was that one for?"

"You might have mentioned that at the start?"

"Given your Occlumency technique, I didn't think I'd need to."

"Yes, well. You know, trees and woods and not seeing one for the other?"

Remus laughed lightly. "Sorry then, cub."

"It's all right. I really should have thought of it myself. Okay. Let's try again," he said, giving the chair a determined look.

Of course, this presented the challenge of moving his wand the right way and intoning the words correctly in his head, while envisioning the chair rising. But he refused to get beaten by a _chair_. He glared at it, seeing it rise elegantly into the air in his mind. And then he thought the incantation, moving his wand simultaneously. Which did … exactly nothing. Again. If a chair could look smug, this one would surely do so now. But he also felt like he was missing something. Those three separate actions were just that … separate. They did not come together.

So what was he missing? What connected it all together …

Wait. What _had_ made the difference when he first learned the spell? He still remembered that class vividly, with feathers blowing up and only Hermione getting it right and Ron saying such horribly thoughtless things to her after she'd tried to help him …

Well, that was one memory he didn't need right now. But in those first lessons, you simply did the spell, over and over, until it finally … happened. And it eventually did, once you got the incantation and the wand right, and … stopped expecting it _not_ to work. You simply reached the point where you forgot about your doubts … and then it suddenly happened. Seeing the other students do it around you also helped with that. Because if they could do it, why not you as well?

But now he expected the silent version not to work, because how could it possibly? How could _he_ possibly do it?

However, the question was really: why shouldn't he be able to do it? After all, he knew he could manage it quite easily when speaking aloud. Which he did, to prove the fact to himself. He let the chair sink back down after a moment, nodding to himself. Right. The knowledge of the spell itself, the power to levitate the chair easily, the sheer _ability_ to cast it was all there. And he knew it was perfectly possible to do it silently, since Remus had just demonstrated that. So why not him? Why did he doubt his own ability?

His gaze suddenly fell to the back of his raised wand-hand. To the runes etched into the skin there, which spoke of confidence. Certainty. Success. And his thought at seeing them was simply … yes.

All he needed to do was … to do it. To confidently assume, with absolute certainty, that it would happen. That he _would_ be successful. Just like … this. And he watched in satisfaction as the chair rose smoothly into the air, as he thought the spell at it, and everything came together seamlessly. Just like that.

"Excellent! So what did you do differently?"

"I stopped expecting to fail."

The chair wobbled a bit when he spoke aloud, but that would not do. Not at all. It would float there serenely … like a cloud. And just like that it steadied and hovered smoothly a couple of inches above the floor. Right. Take that, chair.

"Oh. Yes, that would get in the way, I suppose. Well, let's get the chair to your room, and then you can practise silent cleaning spells on your new … old ... furniture."

"Sure," he agreed, lifting his wand slightly to send the chair gliding forward towards the door. It would follow his directions. Because he could do this, and therefore he would. Because he would only fail, if he started expecting to fail. But why should he, when he could clearly do it? That would be simply stupid. And Corvus Black had no more space in his life for _stupid_.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Lunch brought the conspirators together for a tactical planning session. About how exactly to present Corvus Black to everybody, and the roles they would all have to play. Dora would portray a slightly upset and wary Harry Potter before the meeting started. One who was none too happy about Corvus' presence … after all, he greatly resembled his mother. And thus 'Harry' would flee the scene after an encounter with the early arrivals … allowing Tonks to show up in his stead. The young Auror would be a bit wary as well, but tentatively friendly. Because Corvus was her cousin. He might be an all-right kid. Maybe. Let's give him a chance, and all that.

Remus would of course be the peace-maker, and serve as a mentor and defender. After all, he was the only one who previously knew Corvus. He was also the one who'd ostensibly just spent a week together with the young wizard, assessing his character. Thus it was up to the werewolf to offer reassurances to everyone, and be supportive of his charge. Dumbledore would assist him in this, and generally do his best to keep things flowing and antagonism at a minimum. The headmaster was also the one who could override everyone, and have the last word if need be.

And Snape … would be the antagonist.

Or more correctly, the devil's advocate. Who could throw carefully tailored accusations and objections around. By this, they hoped to subtly undermine whatever real opposition there was. Because if _Professor Snape_, who was not known to go easy on anyone, backed down and was convinced of something … the rest would find it difficult to continue.

That opposition would probably take the form of Molly Weasley … but also Mad-eye Moody, ever suspicious and paranoid. While Molly saw Corvus as a threat to what she considered to be Harry's rights, he would simply represent a big security risk to Moody. The old Auror was also the one most likely to spot any inconsistencies and flaws they had overlooked. Or worse, he might see through the glamour on Corvus' scar. Of course, he'd never seen through Lily Potter's glamour … but that must have been a master-piece of its kind.

On the other hand, Moody's focus should be purely on security. He wouldn't really care about how 'Harry' would be affected by all this. Therefore he might be placated with a simple oath. Molly and her well-meaning, but misguided concerns for poor Harry and his feelings and rights, would likely be much harder to deal with.

In any case, the most difficult role fell without doubt to Corvus himself. He needed to act in keeping with his 'new' character … while still managing to overcome everyone's fears and prejudices. All this, when it would be Harry Potter's friends and supporters who questioned him. Nor could he afford to give himself away by suspiciously knowing too much.

But he would do this. It was all an act. All a big show. One showing. No rehearsals. No way to prepare for what would happen.

However, as Snape pointed out collectedly, tight spots were when he'd always been at his best. Surely, an Order meeting could not be harder than killing a Basilisk, escaping from a colony of Acromantula, or surviving Voldemort himself?

Now the hard part would be to convince himself of that.

.

oOoOoOoOo

However much he didn't want it to, evening inevitably arrived. Dora was already downstairs in the kitchen along with Remus. He could hear Mrs. Weasley gushing all over 'Harry' while she arranged the snacks she'd brought for the meeting. The other two were helping her prepare tea and other refreshments. Mr. Weasley had shown up a few minute ago together with Bill, and the two men were talking quietly in a corner, probably trying to keep out of the way. Faint sounds from the sitting room indicated more arrivals had just come through the floo.

He took a deep breath.

All right. He could do this. He simply needed to remember to talk slowly. To hesitate over words. Maybe he should get the word-order wrong at times, that always sounded foreign. He could slip in the occasional Spanish phrase. But most of all, he had to remember that he _did not know them_. For the first time, he actually felt grateful for the corset and its support. Both as a reminder, and because it would not allow him to slump. Once again his eyes strayed to the back of his hand. Confidence. Certainty. He _could_ do this. And therefore he would.

He slowly went down the last few steps, after fixing that faint smile on his face that he'd been practising in front of the mirror.

He had to admire Dora's look of sullen unhappiness when he entered the kitchen. It was really quite convincing. Remus cast 'Harry' a concerned gaze before he noticed Corvus hesitating in the doorway. His expression turned mildly exasperated then.

"Please come in, Corvus," he said, his voice warm and welcoming. "Let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and their son Bill."

"Good evening," he greeted them softly, letting his eyes pass from face to face, never losing the faint smile. They didn't seem to know what to think of him. He looked like one of their worst enemies, and dressed in a way that screamed money and breeding. And yet they were expected to make nice with him.

The males shook his hand with polite murmurs, while Mrs. Weasley mumbled a vague apology, displaying her dirty hands as an excuse. He simply nodded at her and moved to stand next to Remus.

"Did you have a good rest earlier?" the teacher inquired, carrying the hot tea-pot over to the table gingerly.

"Sí, muy bien, Señor Ochoa. It is odd they do not keep la siesta here."

"Well, in Britain it hardly ever gets very hot. So there is no need to avoid the midday heat."

Corvus shivered as if dreading the weather. "I think the sun is what I will miss the most."

"You speak English quite well," Mrs. Weasley put in, rather awkwardly.

"I was taught it from early, Señora. Also we travelled a lot, and English is spoken in many places," he pointed out coolly.

She flushed slightly, which clashed with her hair-colour. "I mean you have hardly any accent," she said stiffly.

'I don't have any, really,' he thought, lifting his eyebrow at her in unconscious mockery. But it's amazing what people's expectations will make them see. Or hear, in this case.

"My guardian knew my parents had been Inglés, and wished for me to be able to go back one day, maybe," he told her. He felt a bit disconcerted at how easy it was to appear arrogant and slightly patronizing.

"Oh. Of course," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding quite flustered.

By now they had an audience, as several more Order members had come into the kitchen. Dora was fidgeting, alternatively casting uncertain glances at him and glaring sullenly at the table. Corvus was unsure how to proceed, but fortunately at that moment they all heard the front door slam … precipitating loud screeching from Mrs. Black. The gruff tones answering her were unmistakably Alastor Moody's.

Perfect.

Remus rolled his eyes and looked imploringly at Corvus. "Would you, please?"

"Por supuesto. Does she do this _all_ the time?" he asked innocently, giving the new arrivals blocking his exit from the kitchen a dismayed look.

They mostly looked … shocked. And not very friendly, either. He let his own smile slip, regarding them coldly. Straightening his posture and moving his right hand into a better position.

"Hello everyone," Remus said, calmly walking past him and proceeding to gently move people out of the way. "Just get settled down, we'll be back as soon as we manage to shut Mrs. Black up again."

He followed the werewolf up the stairs without looking back. He didn't particularly want to see the looks they would exchange behind his back. Nor hear what they were going to say about him.

"Do you really think you can win a shouting match with a _portrait_, Alastor?" Remus asked sarcastically when they were close enough to the obviously furious wizard. "She isn't going to run out of air anytime soon, you know?"

Moody turned to glare at the werewolf in outrage, a comment on his lips … which went unspoken when he spied Corvus coming up behind Remus. The glare only got worse, however. Corvus decided to ignore him and focus on Walburga instead.

"Señora Black," he said with a winsome smile. "Whatever has you so upset?"

"Why this horrible, filthy man," she shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Mad-eye. "Slamming doors, stomping in here with his dirty boots, and so utterly disrespectful! Like all the other Muggle-loving filth infesting this house."

He cast a quick look over his shoulder, noting that Phineas' painting was conveniently empty. Coward. He turned back to her, still smiling, while Remus put a hand on Moody's arm and started tugging him away. The old wizard was still glaring daggers at Corvus.

"Please, just ignore him, Señora," he pleaded with her, talking slowly and carefully. "Really, it does you no good to get so upset over unimportant things. The sooner you stop shouting at him, the sooner he will be gone."

Of course she actually loved to shout at people. But she liked talking with Corvus even better. And she couldn't resist his smile in the slightest.

"Ven dentro de quince minutos," Remus told him quietly, as he steered a most irritated looking Moody away firmly.

The old Auror fortunately kept his mouth shut, probably seeing the wisdom in remaining quiet. But he didn't like it, oh no. That was quite obvious. Nor did he appear to like Corvus. At all.

"De acuerdo, Señor Ochoa," he agreed readily. That would give everyone time to arrive, and he could practise being charming at Mrs. Black meanwhile. She made such a perfect target for that. If he could charm her, he could charm anyone.

Well, with the exception of Moody. He couldn't help feel uneasy at how hard the man had glared at him. It went beyond simple suspicion.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Amazing how well you get on with Walburga Black," Moody said with obvious suspicion when Corvus re-entered the kitchen a quarter of an hour later. The rest of the Order members had arrived by now, including the headmaster and … Professor Snape. And Tonks as well. He tried to keep the recognition off his face as he let his gaze rove over all those more or less well-known countenances. He finally moved up to the chair which had been kept free for him, taking his seat slowly.

"She likes me, I think. Apparently I remind her of … my mother," he replied to the unspoken accusation, his voice dripping disdain at the last words.

"You don't care about your mother then?"

"Should I? Finding out about her was … an unpleasant surprise. And no, she is not what I would have wanted as a mother."

Which was nothing but the simple truth, after all.

"Because she is a Death Eater?" That was Snape, his voice a silky challenge from the far corner.

The question was also one they'd discussed during lunch.

"Because she is obviously insane. As well as a criminal. And willing to commit foul deeds in the name of a madman, I am told. The Death Eater part … well, it does not mean so much to me, I must admit. It is only distant history, in Spain. Stories in the paper."

That declaration garnered several thoughtful looks around the table. It was a start, at least.

"Did _you_ put up that print for Mrs. Black?" Moody asked gruffly. Really, he couldn't have asked for a better question if the man had been in on the act. Apparently he still smarted from Corvus' handling of that situation, and was unwilling to let the matter go.

"Pues claro. It got her in a better mood. She is quite easy to manage, I find."

This statement was met with disbelieving looks from nearly everyone. He raised an eyebrow in obvious amusement, his smile now openly mocking. When Remus suddenly cleared his throat loudly it seemed to startle everyone.

"Right. As you were already told, this is Corvus Black. Though you'll have to forgive Mr. Black if he doesn't always react to his surname, until recently he lived under another," he explained. "And _no_, Alastor, I'm not going to tell you what it was."

Corvus inclined his head graciously at everyone as Remus quickly identified all the Order members in turn, using the time to study their expressions. Suspicion, curiosity, dislike, concern, wariness, resentment. They certainly did not run an overly positive gamut. But he had not expected happiness and acceptance, after all. He welcomed the sardonic gleam in his father's eyes, though. And the tentative, curious smile Dora gave him. Dumbledore nodded at him gravely, though the twinkle in the headmaster's eyes seemed even more pronounced than usual. He firmly squashed the impulse to roll his eyes at the old wizard, and kept that faint, polite smile fixed on his face instead.

"Good evening all," he said, after Remus had finished his introductions. "I believe you had some questions for me, señores?"

"Yes! And the first one is what the hell were they thinking when they brought you here," Moody finally exploded. He'd been glowering at Corvus throughout the introductions. "You may have convinced Lupin, but the first thing you do is get chummy with the old harridan? I call that damn suspicious!"

He turned the smile slightly mocking again. "Ah. I do not know what _they_ were thinking. Nor which _they_ you actually mean, Señor … Moody?" he began slowly. "But truly, I find Señora Black to be a nice lady, if treated properly. I do not understand why you would consider that suspicious?"

"She was a bloody Dark witch, that's why!" Moody barked.

"Was she now? All I have learned of her so far is that she is maybe overly proud of her family-name. As well as a bit stuck on blood-purity, which is silly, of course. But mostly … she seems very lonely," he said with that charming smile that always made Walburga melt.

It had quite the opposite effect on the old Auror, who looked apoplectic.

"Why you ..."

"This is getting us nowhere, Moody," Snape interrupted him coldly, appraising his son as if he were an interesting potions-ingredient. "We do not have all night to argue about Mrs. Black. Frankly, I am the one in most danger if this boy should turn out to be a risk. Therefore I would like to know if he can be trusted before you proceed to pepper him with pointless questions."

"How would I be able to _prove_ that, Señor?" Corvus challenged him back, letting his gaze wander over all those suspicious faces. "I do not think anyone here is wanting to take my word for anything?" he pointed out.

"Unless it was your _sworn_ word, likely not," his father agreed smoothly, glancing aside at Moody whose expression turned calculating.

"Let's see you swear an oath then," he demanded gruffly. "That you aren't You-know-who's creature already, or about to join him as soon as our backs are turned. And that you aren't going to sell us out or betray us in any way."

"You obviously have some very bad ideas of me, Señor Moody," Corvus told him, outwardly unperturbed. "Yet you do not know me at all, I would bet."

In a way it was almost amusing, because Mad-eye couldn't be more wrong about him. But also worrying, since they hadn't counted on him being so very suspicious of Corvus. Nor so hostile. If he didn't back down, he could turn into a real problem.

The old wizard scowled at him and snarled: "I know enough, I'll warrant! Bad blood will out, and your mother is very bad blood indeed. And we don't even _know_ who your father is!"

Ah. That explained the excessive distrust and antagonism … excessive even for Mr. Paranoid Moody.

"So you condemn me for parents I have never even met? You chose to disregard all I may have learned from those who raised me. Should I pity you for your short-sightedness?"

Moody looked like he was ready to blow up, or start hexing … when Dumbledore raised a hand. Until now the old wizard had simply watched the confrontation with a lively sparkle in his eyes, keeping himself out of it. But it was definitely time the headmaster put the brakes on the former Auror, before something happened.

"Enough, Alastor. Remus is a good judge of character, and he _knows_ the people who raised Mr. Black. I trust in his assessment, and I myself have also found no reason to doubt the young man … however unusual some of his thoughts may be. Will an oath on his magic satisfy you, Alastor?"

The wizard gave a sullen nod, still glaring furiously at Corvus.

"And you Mr. Black, are you willing to swear such an oath?"

"I wish to know the wording of what I will be swearing, before I agree to it. But in principle, yes, certainly."

.

oOoOoOoOo

It had taken the combined efforts of Dumbledore, Snape and Remus to wrestle the wording to something everyone, including Moody, was satisfied with. It was reassuring to know those three were really all on Corvus' side. Otherwise he'd have been much more concerned about this oath. As it was, the likelihood of him joining Voldemort or deliberately betraying the Order was quite slim. If not non-existent. Never say never, after all. But the circumstances would have to change outrageously wildly for that, so … probably never. And the oath seemed reasonable enough to him.

As the bands of magic wound around his hand, glowing a metallic gold and silver, he saw most of them relax. However, a few still appeared doubtful. He sighed inwardly, and caught Remus' attention, flapping the fingers of his hand slightly in an arranged signal. The werewolf nodded minutely and abruptly stood, which drew everyone's attention to him.

"I see some of you still do not quite trust Mr. Black's word. Maybe you need proof he is not forsworn already? I believe there is one spell which may also help convince you he is not a Dark wizard ..."

Puzzled looks were exchanged around the table as Corvus raised his wand again. Many appeared wary of his drawn wand. However, their expressions turned surprised and even slightly awed a few moments later as the silvery heron flew around the room. He deliberately brought it to a rest right in front of Moody. Who glowered at the Patronus until it faded away.

"Does this satisfy you?" he asked softly, letting his eyes wander over their faces again.

For the most part, it seemed to. Moody obviously remained suspicious. And Molly Weasley also looked unhappy.

"It should," Dumbledore said sternly. "Now are there any other concerns in regard to Mr. Black and his presence in this house?"

"All right, so he doesn't intend to serve You-know-who … but that still doesn't change what he is taking from Harry!" Mrs. Weasley finally burst out.

"What exactly am I taking from him?" Corvus asked her quietly.

"Sirius Black was his godfather. He left everything to Harry in his will."

"If he did, and legally so, it surely could not fall to me then, could it?"

"That's just because the Ministry refuses to clear his name! And Sirius Black was innocent," she protested stridently.

"That may well be. But better it comes to me, than it is lost if _Harry_ cannot inherit either?"

"Of course. But we are trying to clear his name ..."

Corvus stared at her blankly for a moment. Trying to remember the arguments he and Dora had come up with for this.

"And me receiving this inheritance … from the _Black_ family, and thus also my right by birth … would leave him a pauper? What is the word … destitute? Sí?"

That was clearly an approach Mrs. Weasley was not prepared for. She could hardly dare to claim that Harry would be poor without Sirius' money. Being able to anticipate beforehand what arguments people might throw at you, was really helpful in finding your own ...

"No. Not that. In fact, he is quite wealthy," she admitted grudgingly. He had to give her points for truthfulness at least. "But that is not the point! This is the only thing he has left from his godfather Sirius ..."

"So this Sirius Black, he was truly the head of the family then?"

"Of course ..."

"Qué curioso. I was told he wanted nothing to do with his family, and hated this house."

"Who told you that?"

"Hmm. Harry Potter?"

"He did? When?"

"You are aware, Señora Weasley, that I came here _yesterday_?"

"Oh."

"I fear Harry does not like me much. But he also does not like it here, that much was easy to see. And naturally, I wanted to ask him about my family, and the house … and he knew _nothing_. So you want him to inherit, when he does neither want it … nor value it?"

"And you would?"

"It is … family. My family. I do not care for the one who bore me, but family is a matter of great importance in Spain. It was always a grief to me that I knew nothing of mine. Now … I would finally be able to. And surely not even this family is all bad?"

Moody snorted. "Rotten through and through, if you ask me."

"And yet this Sirius was one of them? So is this woman here, who I believe is my cousin, no? Her mother was very much a Black as well, was she not? I was shown the tapestry yesterday, Señor Moody. All those names burned from it … why? Because they maybe went against their family? Am I rotten, too, who never knew of it?"

The old Auror suddenly looked uncomfortable, especially since _Tonks_ was giving him the death-glare as well.

"I would like to see if this family could be salvaged. By one who comes from outside, without pre … preconceptions? I was taught honour, and to protect those too weak to do it themselves. Do you find wrong in that as well?" he asked with quiet dignity.

"No, Mr. Black," Dumbledore put in, his eyes twinkling merrily. "It is a most noble goal. We would be quite indebted to you if you managed to steer the family onto another path. And you are right that Harry does not care for the Black family. Nor does he truly _need_ the inheritance. He was left well provided for by his own parents. Mrs. Weasley is mostly concerned because Sirius Black was the strongest link to his father's past which the poor boy had left ..."

"I do not intend to keep him from that. He is welcome here anytime … if he even wants to. I have no ill will towards him. He is family, too, if distant. But I am not my mother, señores. I never knew her. I do _not_ like what I was told of her. And I certainly bear no blame for her misdeeds!"

He drew a deep breath, not having to fake his upset expression. Because it reminded him of the past, when everybody had compared him to James Potter. Most of all the man who had turned out to be his _real_ father. And all the grief this misconception had caused him.

"As for the house … I see no problem if you wish to continue meeting here. It is large enough. I will also go to school soon, so it will be empty but for Señor Ochoa anyway. He may welcome the company," he finished with a lopsided smile at Remus. "I hope common courtesy will ensure you leave it as you found it."

The last was a sly dig at Mundungus Fletcher, who paled visibly as several people glared at him. Dora had told him yesterday that she'd caught the old thief trying to make off with some trinkets from the house during the last week. She'd informed Dumbledore, who had promptly forbidden Dung the house unless he was escorted in for a meeting.

"Now was that all you needed from me?" he asked delicately, raising an eyebrow again. Putting the faint smile back on his face as well.

"Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said gravely, smiling gently. "You have been most helpful and cooperative, and I thank you for that. I also hope this meeting has dispelled the last concerns of the doubters amongst you all ..."

It probably had for the most part, though Moody still looked unconvinced. Mrs. Weasley had a rather obstinate expression as well. But at least for the moment they had been silenced.

"Entonces, buenas noches. Good night. I will leave you to your meeting then," Corvus said with a gracious nod, calmly rising and walking out of the kitchen.

He didn't stop until he was safely in his own room, with the door firmly closed behind him. He sank down on the bed, closing his eyes. Clasping his trembling hands together as the strain finally caught up with him. At least it had been easier than facing the Basilisk. He wasn't so sure about the Acromantulas, though. Moody certainly seemed about as easy to argue with as Aragog had been.

.

oOoOoOoOo

He was dozing, half-way asleep, when he heard the door to his room open quietly, and soft footsteps approached his bed. He reluctantly opened his eyes again, wondering whether it would be Remus or his father. It was the latter, who took a seat in Corvus' newly acquired armchair after turning it to face the bed.

"That was quite a performance you put on there. I must admit to being impressed."

"To be honest, I have no idea where I pulled half of that from," he replied, sitting up with a groan and stuffing a couple of pillows behind his back so he could lean comfortably against the headboard.

"What matters is that you did. And you did very well indeed. We hardly had to interfere, and your handling of their arguments was quite masterful. If you can keep this up … I have no concern for your success."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling a warm glow at the praise. "Thanks," he said quietly. "Yeah, I guess I did okay … but I doubt I can manage something like that constantly. I mean, I had time to prepare for it, and Dora to help me with my arguments."

"You will hardly be confronted with an audience of wary, suspicious people _all the time_. Much less one containing Alastor Moody. At Hogwarts, in Slytherin, it should not be so bad. They will not be suspicious of the same things. And you have the advantage of already knowing the school, when everyone believes you do not."

"That is true. Though the Slytherins will just be suspicious, period. It's practically a requirement for the sorting, isn't it?"

"You have to approach Slytherin with an open mind, Corvus."

"I know. It's just weird to think they will likely be the least prejudiced about me," he pointed out with a shake of his head.

"You will do well. Never doubt that. You will also have all of us to help. And Phineas to advise you, too."

"If he sticks around," he said with a snicker. "He ran away today when Moody woke up Mrs. Black."

"Maybe he was already gone?"

"Sure ..." Corvus drawled sarcastically.

"Well, at least your mood seems to have improved. You should get out of those clothes and go to bed properly, however."

"What, no daily headache?"

Snape sighed and shook his head ruefully. "You look about ready to drop. I can always give you an extra dose tomorrow," he suggested with a sardonic smirk.

"Why, thank you. But I think I might pass on that one, Padre," Corvus replied, before a sudden yawn overtook him. "I really do feel wiped today, though."

"It is probably because of the stress and the tension. However, do not neglect your exercises before sleeping."

He peered up at Luna's black dream-catcher that he'd hung on the wall behind his bed. "I won't. Tonight would probably be nightmare country if I forgot to do them."

"I am sorry."

"What for?"

"That all this is so difficult for you. For you having to go through this … because I hid you with them."

He shrugged, finally sitting up and starting on the many buttons of his vest. "You hardly knew how everything would work out. I do not blame you, Padre," he said softly, meeting his father's dark eyes with a smile.

"This would likely also have been easier if the Order had known about me being your father, you realise."

"Possibly. But I'd rather live with the extra suspicion, than have you live with the extra danger of one of them slipping up," he said firmly.

"You seem most determined to keep me around ..."

"Well, I already lost one father. I'd prefer not to lose my second chance at having one."

Snape sighed heavily and got up, ready to leave. "I must admit I would like to keep the son I had lost as well."

"And there's always the grandchildren. Not to forget the step-mother you owe me."

"Or maybe I should disown you after all?"

"But think of the poor grandchildren! What would they do without a grandfather to teach them potions or tell them outrageous stories of their father's many stupid adventures?"

"What happened to the boy who was scared of me?"

"He discovered he wasn't an orphan after all?"

"Very true. Good night, son of mine."

"Good night, Padre."

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I hope most people will like this chapter. I am a bit unsure whether I maybe overdid Corvus' abilities to convincingly act the foreigner and deal with everyone … but well, Harry Potter always did do well under pressure. And Corvus had a lot of help, too. So it's probably all right. *throws the perfectionism out of the window and watches it slither right back in.

Anyway, as always, many thanks for the reviews! And I really hope you liked this one. I would throw my stupid insecurities after the perfectionism, but I'm afraid they'd get together and breed something like baby writer's blocks. Better not risk that!


	23. Transition

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

He had made it through the Order meeting. But tomorrow would already bring the next ordeal.

Gringotts.

What if the Goblins ruled it was a mistake, and he wasn't the heir of Black after all? What if their tests simply didn't confirm the claim of the tapestry?

What if they denied him the inheritance, since his mother had been the one to kill the last Lord Black? Though Sirius had never actually claimed the title, as far as he knew.

What if there was simply no way to prove he was indeed Corvus Black? Would he be stuck in identity limbo, neither Harry Potter, nor Corvus Black? With no way to claim either name?

What if the Goblins came through, but the Ministry later refused his emancipation? Would he have to go back to Harry Potter? Or would Snape claim his son, to keep him out of his mother's hands, though that would mean he'd have to stop spying?

What if …

What if everything worked out according to plan?

He would have another busy and nerve-wracking day. There was bound to be bureaucracy. And probably forms to fill out. They'd have to check out the Black vaults, just in case. Perhaps meet with the account-manager. Because once he was emancipated … he would be fully in control of those vaults. Whether he was ready or not.

And he would be _Lord_ Black. Another thing he wasn't entirely prepared for.

He would also bind Winky to the Black family, which should at least get the house into shape. That was something to look forward to. He hated seeing it like it was now, so dark, gloomy and dirty.

But that was tomorrow.

Today …

Well, there would be lessons. And a lot of Occlumency, too. Snape had likely not been joking when he promised an extra dose. But still, a fairly normal day. One day of respite, between the stress of yesterday and … tomorrow. However, the Goblins should be easier than facing the Order had been. As long as the tests confirmed who he claimed to be, and there were no other objections.

But that was something he had no control over. There was nothing which depended on his performance. All he had to do tomorrow was go along with his escort, be polite but firm, and act in character. Not too hard, really. And not have a nervous breakdown, of course, because of everything that could go wrong.

That was the other side of the coin. There wasn't anything he specifically _had to do_ … but also not much he _could_ _do_ to affect the outcome. Because hoping really hard probably didn't count.

But that was tomorrow.

Today …

He would have some time to set up this room to his liking. It definitely needed more book-shelves. He also wanted a nice thick carpet or two, and lots of fat, soft pillows. New ones, though, so he'd have to wait for tomorrow. They might have time for a trip to a department-store after Gringotts. New bedsheets as well, maybe in different colours. Though the current dark green was all right, really. But they were old, like everything in the house, and slightly musty. Maybe new curtains, too. And towels. Most things made from fabric needed replacing, time and the lack of care in the last decade had seen to that.

He ought to decide on a colour scheme beforehand, though. Green would actually not be too bad. It would certainly be in keeping with Corvus Black, prospective Slytherin from a very Slytherin family. And well, he liked greenery, didn't he? He finally sat up, contemplating the room. The walls, after several determined _scourgifies_ to get the dust and grime off them, had turned out to be a fairly nice neutral cream colour. The furniture and the old parquetry floor were all of some dark wood, and should look fairly good after a thorough polishing and waxing.

As for the fabrics … red was quite out of the question. So was yellow and orange. He shuddered at the thought of pink, or purple. Which didn't leave much but blue and green. Both would be all right, perhaps mixed with some earth tones. And was interior decoration really important, given all his other concerns?

But it was another first. The first time he was actually able to decorate his own room. One that belonged to him, and only him. Not the grudgingly given former storage for broken toys of his cousin. More than a dorm shared with his Gryffindor year-mates. Or rooming with Ron and his obsession for the Chudley Cannons.

Just his. His own. To do with as he wanted. Arranged to his wishes, filled with his things. He finally had belongings, beyond the merely necessary. Of course, the whole _house_ would belong to him soon. But that thought was still far too big, after ten years of living in someone else's cupboard.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"All right. Since there is only a week until your evaluation, I thought we should start by checking what you actually need to prepare for," Remus stated, his critical eyes never leaving the young wizard who was currently balancing on one leg in front of him.

"This is going to be torture," Corvus complained.

"Merely the most efficient use of limited time," the teacher corrected him, preparing to take notes. "You will alternate physical and mental exercises, which allows you to fill rest periods in a productive manner," he declared, waving his quill expansively.

His student rolled his eyes but kept balancing. "So … revising?"

"Yes. You had not planned on taking Astronomy, History or Divination further, had you?"

"No point really. History might be important in the long run," he said thoughtfully. "But with Binns as a teacher it's a total waste of time."

"Very true, unfortunately. It is one subject you can always self-study later, though."

"Yeah. And after three years of enduring Hagrid's love of dangerous creatures, I suppose I'm pretty solid in Care."

"You also had an E on your O.W.L.s," Remus conceded, consulting Harry's exam results. "Time to switch legs, now. What about Herbology?"

"Well, I'm pretty good at gardening," Corvus pointed out, obligingly starting to balance on the other leg. Somehow this exercise was harder than expected. "Not _Neville_ level, but I do well enough. There isn't very much theory to understand, either. Mostly just learning stuff by heart and practicals ..."

"Right. I don't believe you need to bother with revising for it then. Try to think the centre of your balance into the soles of your feet."

"Huh?"

"Just try it. Well, you didn't take Runes or Arithmancy, and somehow I doubt you need revising for DADA."

"Considering how I was more or less the _teacher_ last year ..."

"And you did it very well, too. We also covered a lot of defence this summer already. To be honest, you could probably pass your N.E.W.T.s there soon, with a little more preparation. At least once you have a better handle on the silent casting."

Corvus fought off a blush at the compliment, and concentrated harder on his feet.

"What exactly did you mean by thinking my balance into my feet?"

"Where would you say your centre of balance is normally?"

"Hmm. My middle?"

"Exactly. But you can shift it, by thinking it elsewhere."

"That works?"

"Strangely, yes. And believe me, there is actually a point to my request. Here, let me demonstrate something," Remus replied, walking over and standing in front of Corvus. "Give me a push."

He complied, and the werewolf started to topple over before he caught himself.

"That was with a 'middle' balance. Now try again."

He pushed again … and amazingly, while Remus' upper body moved slightly backwards, he could not budge the other wizard.

"And that was with the balance in my feet. You kind of need to … think in your feet. Or imagine the centre of balance down there. Think of a piece of flexible wire stuck through a ball … and then consider the difference it makes in moving it, depending on whether the ball is in the middle of the wire, or at one end."

Corvus furrowed his brow, thinking hard. "I see … at least I think I do. If your centre of balance is down there, it's much harder to fall over."

"Indeed. The worst case are those people who have it up in their shoulders."

"Maybe you should try this kind of lesson with Dora?" he suggested with a sly grin.

"Hmm. Maybe I should at that. It might explain why she trips so much. Unless she is doing it deliberately, of course," Remus admitted with a thoughtful expression. "Anyway, when you try to dodge, your centre of balance, and also proper freedom of movement in your upper body is quite important. When you draw your shoulders up and forward you lock up your upper body. If you want to move your arms freely, you need to have your shoulders back and downwards."

"Why does no-one ever tell us these things?"

"You do learn about posture in martial arts, or dancing classes. Both of which is quite beneficial in duelling. They teach you increased awareness and control of your body … there is so much more to duelling than just the casting."

"Yeah ..."

"So, back to balancing, and try to shift it downwards."

"De acuerdo."

"Oh, and if you want a _real_ challenge, do that with closed eyes," Remus said with a wicked smile.

Corvus closed his eyes … and promptly almost fell over. "Damn," he muttered. "Didn't think this would be so much harder."

"It is, isn't it? You should make that into a daily exercise. It really helps."

"Just another thing for the list, eh?" he said with a roll of his eyes, keeping them open again.

"Anyway, then we have Potions … but given your rather good O.W.L.s result, Severus told me he intends to wave you through on that one for now. Which actually only leaves Transfiguration and Charms to revise for. Now you had an Exceeds Expectation for both, which is well done by the way. I suppose your practical in those subjects is still up to scratch?"

"It should be. And Padre thinks the Occlumency might improve my Transfiguration skills as well."

"I wouldn't be surprised. And there is your new wand, too. I will have to test you, but otherwise this mostly leaves Transfiguration theory for revising. Charms is fortunately not too heavy on theory, unless you go into spell-creation. Think you can manage that in a week?"

"Hopefully. As long as there are no horrible disasters which eat all my time."

"Right. Then … how about we move on to something more strenuous, like push-ups ..."

Corvus groaned but nodded obediently.

"Afterwards, while you have a rest, we'll go over Transfiguration theory so I can figure out if you have any major gaps. And finally, you get to play 'rescue the table'.

"Joy."

oOoOoOoOo

'Rescue the table' turned out to be a real joy, indeed. Corvus surveyed the obstacle course made of rickety tables, spindly chairs and screens transfigured from old curtains with a sinking feeling. Their lesson took place in his new training room downstairs, which was apparently once a rather large and ostentatious reception room. Dora had discovered it last week. As to why they had not realised it was there earlier … they had 'Dung' Fletcher to blame for that one. The shady wizard had seen the potential of the room for storing and hiding his 'merchandise' as soon as the Order started using the house.

And you could say what you wanted about Dung's character … his notice-me-not spells were top-notch. Probably _because_ of his character. Sirius was the only one who might have remembered the room … but he hated the house too much, and thus paid no attention to a door which was somehow not there anymore. No-one else had noticed a missing entrance either, since the large room was clearly the result of a magical space extension. No way could it have fitted into the normal floor-plan of the house. But when his cousin caught Dung stealing last week, she followed him and found the room.

Dora saw the potential of a large room full of old junk right away, and emptied it out while they were away in Spain. It didn't look very pretty after she was done, but it was clean, safe and empty. Aside from a sizeable pile of old furniture and mouldy fabrics stacked up against the back wall. Old things which would now find a final use as targets, obstacles or for transfiguration practise.

The goal of his current exercise was to transport a 'disabled' comrade from one end of the room to the other, using cover as much as he could, while Remus and Dora held him under crossfire. Oh, and his 'comrade' was a table. Which he would have to levitate. Silently. And repair, if it got damaged, in lieu of using healing spells. Silently. He was allowed to cast other spells aloud, since his silent shield spells were still too feeble.

He didn't even want to think about actual _damaging_ spells. Because so far he did best at spells where he could _imagine_ the result, and well, imagining for example the result of a _reducto_ on a human body …

That definitely came under the category of 'wince-worthy'. Some spells, like _expelliarmus_ or _stupefy_, came fairly naturally. But then, visualising a wand flying out of their owner's hand, or them falling over stunned, was pretty easy. However, he needed to push more power into silently cast spells to make them effective. Which made the silent varieties of these spells a bit too weak to actually use in a fight. So far.

Therefore, one reason for this exercise was to increase his ability to push magic into silent spells. As well as to keep a cool head under fire, concentrate on more than one objective at the same time, and to keep track of more than one attacker. Fortunately, the table wouldn't be able to complain about getting dropped frequently and 'injured' further.

He honestly didn't expect to get the stupid thing across 'alive', even though they had promised to go easy on him. For now. Still, try, try, and then pick yourself and your table up, and try again.

Because all things considered, it was unlikely any Death Eaters were going to go easy on him.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So when did you figure out _silent casting_? And why do I still let myself get surprised by you?" his father asked with a long-suffering expression. There was also a decided note of irritation in his voice.

They had just settled down in Corvus' new bedroom for the daily headache. Also known as Occlumency training. After Snape had witnessed his son levitate the lunch-dishes to the sink. Silently. He had not thought it would be a big deal.

Apparently he was wrong.

"Oh. Ehm. Yesterday morning?"

"And you did not consider this worthwhile enough to mention?" Snape almost growled. He did not sound pleased at all, for some reason.

"Is it?" Corvus asked, feeling taken aback.

"Everyone else would think so!"

He lowered his eyes uncomfortably. "Since when have I been everyone else?" he asked softly.

He heard his father sigh. "This was not meant as criticism. It is simply that … it distresses me to think how much you appear to have _underperformed_ until now. And how little you seem to value your own talent!"

"I always got decent marks, you know."

"Average, you mean. Though your O.W.L.s are surprisingly good, given your performance throughout your first years ..."

"I had a lot of things to distract me!"

"Most of which you should not have handled by yourself!"

"Like the tournament?"

"That was one year only."

"Yeah, well," he carded his hands through the curls, ripping his hair-tie loose and tying it fresh somewhat agitatedly. "Who exactly should I have gone to for help? To handle things? You?"

There was a frozen moment of silence. He finally raised his eyes to meet his father's. There had been too much hurt and anger in his voice. And now those emotions were in the dark eyes locked with his own. He lowered his gaze again after a few moments, shivering lightly.

"I meant what I said," he spoke to his hands, which had fallen into his lap. "But I did not mean for those words to hurt you, or accuse you. I'm sorry for _that_. Things just were … like they were. But now they are … different. You and I are different, too, only … you can't change the past. I can't change mine either. All I can do is … move on," he concluded, lifting his eyes again. "And try to do things … differently from now on. But … please understand I'm simply not used to having someone to go to. Or someone who _cares_ about my successes."

Snape stared at him wordlessly for long seconds. Corvus hated to see the turmoil in the dark eyes. The hurt and upset and guilt that was there because of _him_. His father finally drew a somewhat shaky breath and looked away.

"But I do. Much too late, I realise that," he said softly.

"I can't deny it would have been nice to have had that … earlier," Corvus replied as softly. "But I don't think there's really a 'too late' for something like that. Not as long as we are both still here."

The dark eyes returned to meet his. "All right," Snape said quietly. "Just … remember, please."

"As much as I can."

There was another silence. This one was merely a bit awkward, though.

"So … how did you figure this one out so fast?"

"It was actually rather easy. Once Remus reminded me that I should visualise the results. And once I realised it would work once I stopped expecting to fail."

"That was all it took?"

"Yeah. Of course, it depends on the spell. Some I can visualise easily, which helps a lot, others … not at all. I also have to push more power into the casting, which makes some of the spells too weak. Like expelliarmus. I will have to practise a lot."

"Still, normally it can take students quite a while to get to even that point. I must admit to being impressed … yet again."

"Thanks," Corvus said with a wry smile. "Better be careful with all the praise, though. At this rate I may become vain and conceited."

His father studied him carefully. "No, I do not think there is much danger of that with you. If anything, your self-confidence is yet in dire need of shoring up. However … did I tell you some of the Order thought you arrogant and stuck up?"

"Hmm. Well, I was probably channelling _cousin Draco_ a bit at the meeting."

Snape muttered something which did not sound complimentary, but then his gaze became penetrating. "Do not take this too lightly, though. Some of them were also concerned about the fact that your father is unknown. Especially given Bellatrix' obsession with the Dark Lord ..."

"Are you telling me they thought _he_ might be ..."

"It is impossible to tell who your father is from your appearance alone, since you simply look so much a Black. However, because of that, and what we know of a young Tom Riddle's appearance … I am afraid you _could_ be his, going from looks alone."

"Uhm. You know, I am suddenly very glad I _know_ who it actually is. If I didn't ..." he swallowed, feeling rather queasy at the thought.

"Did you really not consider the possibility?"

"Would you have wanted to? Bellatrix is bad enough, but _him_ as well … ugh."

"Unfortunately, we cannot let them know the truth for now."

"At least this way they should be quite relieved once they learn about you."

"Indubitably. And since you are currently so nicely upset and disturbed … _Legilimens_."

The attack took Corvus totally by surprise. The memory of sitting opposite Snape over a cauldron started to repeat, with a silver knife clutched in Harry's hand, watching a drop of blood fall into a potion …

But there were always clouds. And before the drop finished falling, he let himself sink away into the white that would take everything away. Even the horrible thought of having _Voldemort_ as his father. Ugh.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"You are getting rather good at hiding memories," he was told as he swallowed yet another vial of pain-killer a while later. "But you still take far too long to push me out."

Corvus sighed, relaxing as the headache receded. "I know. Shifting memories around and visualising clouds everywhere is getting quite easy. But to actually push you out ..."

"Yes, that is unfortunately mostly a matter of strength. Which you are building. Slowly, but you are improving. However, until you can throw me out as soon as I start, we cannot stop these sessions, you realise that?"

"I thought you also wanted to teach me Legilimency?"

"That will have to wait until you are strong enough as well. It is best not to start too soon with that, as it can inadvertently weaken your Occlumency by creating feed-back loops."

"Ah. All right. It's not as if I'm that eager to learn how to see into other people's minds and memories anyway ..."

"It can indeed be more of a curse than a blessing at times. And a horrible temptation, of course."

"Yeah ..."

There was silence for long moments, which was broken when Snape sighed, and gave his son one of his calculating looks.

"By the way, do you think you can make your friends believe you are having visions again? As well as horrible nightmares? Perhaps also increasing bouts of depression?" he asked, his voice very serious.

Corvus stared back at him, considering the request. There could only be one reason for such a deception.

"This is about why Harry Potter isn't coming back to Hogwarts?" he asked directly.

"Yes," his father admitted. "We can then send 'Harry' away to receive training in Occlumency somewhere else, with the added bonus of presumably putting distance between him and the Dark Lord."

"It would be a good explanation, yes. Just training alone wouldn't quite cut it … but this should work," he said, considering the matter. "It should be easy enough. I ought to write them anyway, so I could start dropping hints. They are complaining about not being allowed to see me," he added thoughtfully. "This would throw them off about that as well."

"Would you like to see them more often?"

"I … don't know. Part of me wants to very much, because I'm about to mostly lose them … but they want to see _Harry_."

"Who is you."

"Not anymore."

The silence felt very pregnant this time.

"Is that so?"

"I am … still not sure who I am, at the moment. But … Harry Potter isn't really a large part of 'who I am' anymore. And … I don't quite know how to explain it … but they are … were … _Harry's_ friends. The more Harry kind of … recedes … so do they. I still like them, don't get me wrong. They are very important to me. They were at my side for five years. They were a huge part of Harry's life. So I would like to be their friend … or rather, be their friend again."

"Again."

"That's the crux of it. I would like to be their friend … but I'm not sure if they'll want to be _mine_. Because they were Harry's friends, and I don't know if they can accept Corvus. They might hate me when they eventually discover what I hid from them. How I lied and deceived them. And I have no idea if they can possibly accept that Harry is … _gone_. That I … lost him, willingly. That I don't intend to bring him back. Ever."

"Corvus ..."

"But I chose this. I chose … _you_," he said, looking helplessly at his father. Who got up and pulled his son into an embrace.

"I will do whatever I can to not make you regret your choice, son of mine."

"Can't ask for more, can I?" he said, resting his head against Snape's shoulder.

Snape. His father.

He had chosen his father over his friends. There was no denying it. All he could do now was salvage as much of his friendships as possible. But first he needed to lie to them. Lie, deceive and … actually not pretend to be someone else.

Because he _was_ Corvus Black. And he had been Harry Potter. Whether he could be someone they still wanted as a friend … only time would tell.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Late afternoon found Corvus staring out onto what rain-drenched foliage of the garden was visible from his window. Heavy clouds darkened the sky and made it seem later than it was, while thunder chased the occasional lightning bolt. It was just another summer storm. And it had been just a week. But it wasn't a lie when he said he would miss the sun. He already did.

The desk was littered with letters from his friends … Harry's friends … that had accumulated over the last week. They all had a common tenor.

How was he? What was he doing? What was going on, why could they not see him? They missed him, but no-one would tell them anything. There were always excuses why they were not allowed to visit Grimmauld Place. Or why Harry could not come to the Burrow. Did he know why? All this intermingled with anecdotes of their summer, and attempts to cheer him up. To show him he was not forgotten. And that they worried about him. He clenched his fist and lightly punched the wall next to the window.

It stung. But the reality was … he could not really afford to see them much this summer. Maybe a few times, but … he was busy. Very busy. Getting his new life in order, and training as much as possible while he still could. Having to switch back to what was left of Harry Potter would not help with that. It was getting increasingly harder, too.

They had also asked him about Corvus in their most recent letters. What was his impression of that guy? Did they get along, or was he an arse? Did they even see much of each other? And did he really look just like his mother?

Time to write back. And set the stage for the exit of Harry Potter, starring actor in far too many dramas. He would be missed … only not by himself. Which was vaguely amusing, considering how often he'd been accused of being an attention-seeker. He smiled grimly to himself as he sat down and took up the quill Hermione had gifted him.

.

Hey Ron, mate,

I'm sorry you're not getting to see much of me this summer, but they are keeping me awfully busy. And I guess for once Dumbledore is right in keeping us apart.

Ron, I have to confess something. You know I hate talking about this kind of stuff, but I fear Voldie is back to his old tricks. I've been getting visions again, so now I'm going to have 'remedial lessons' once again, with the Bat, too. Though leastwise it's not only the greasy git tormenting me this time, since Remus and Tonks are helping as well. That makes it a lot better, and I might actually learn it this way. But I don't sleep well, mate. When it's not Voldie, I have nightmares. And I often get these horrible headaches, too. I'm simply not the best company right now.

I'd love to spend more time with you lot, but I really need the bastard to stay out of my head before it drives me nuts. They might allow me to come over for a day of flying soon, though. So wish me luck, mate. I could do with a break.

As for the Black guy, well, he seems all right. It's hard to judge him, I don't think he lets anyone close. He's distant, but always very polite. And really sarcastic, as well. He doesn't feel Dark or anything like that, though. He kept asking me about the Blacks at first, which was a bit painful. Because the only Black I knew was Sirius. Not that I can say I actually knew Sirius all that well, if you get what I mean.

Otherwise, he seems a bit of a fop. You should see his clothing! And yeah, he looks enough like his mother that he gives me the creeps. He can be quite arrogant at times, though in a different way than Malfoy. I suspect he does it mostly to keep people at arms-length, if that makes sense. I don't think he trusts anyone here, aside from Remus. Sometimes he comes across as really foreign, too. I don't honestly know what to make of him so far. I'll probably have lots of occasions until term to learn more about him though, because Remus is drilling the both of us together.

It's hard work. I never knew Remus could be such a slave-driver. But it's brilliant, really. I must admit the Black guy is quite good, too. He's actually a fairly good teacher himself. We could have used him last year in the DA, believe it or not. For all that he's a bit stuck up, he is surprisingly patient when it comes to explaining something. It's obvious he's had a lot of training. So having someone to work with, and a teacher just for us, is really cool. And exhausting. But at least when I'm tired I sleep a bit better.

Otherwise I'm fine. And it's much better here than it used to be at the Dursleys. It was a bit boring while Remus was gone, though Tonks kept popping over. She's really cool, too. I also got all my homework done. Hermione would be proud of me. And well, I still miss Sirius. A lot. But I'm getting over that. So don't worry about me, and hopefully I'll see you all soon,

Take care, mate

Harry

P.S.: Thanks for all the news from the Burrow, and give everyone my love (though I can hopefully do so soon myself). It's good to hear you are having a great summer over there. Keep it up!

.

He wondered if he'd said too much in his letter. He didn't usually talk much about himself, after all … but then, he'd mostly written about his _other_ self. And well, 'Harry' would feel both conflicted and curious about 'Corvus', and couldn't exactly talk about him with anyone in the house. So he would instead tell his friends in the only way he could. Which would hopefully make them curious about Corvus in turn.

His letter to Hermione was along the same lines, only with rather more mention of his work with Remus. He also stressed the fact he'd already done all his homework, and had been reading lots of books, especially on Defence. And he hinted strongly that maybe they could start the DA up again, only this time round as an actual club.

He also wrote shorter notes to Ginny, Neville and Luna, with belated thanks for their presents to the last two.

Writing those letters had allowed him to set Hermione's quill to his old handwriting. He intended to spend the evening working out what simple changes he could make so it would look different. Remus had bought him a Spanish book on calligraphy during their raid on the bookshop in Madrid, which should be helpful in figuring out a few distinctive changes. Combined with writing less messily, it would hopefully be enough. After all, it didn't need to change all the way. Just … enough. So that no teacher or fellow student ended up wondering why Corvus Black had Harry Potter's handwriting.

Details, details, endless details.

Staying Harry Potter would have been the easier option by far.

But …

Not having to be Harry bloody Potter, the Boy-who-lived and attention-seeking Saviour anymore, was worth quite a bit of hassle. He simply had to hope the few people who'd actually miss _Harry_ would eventually forgive him.

Maybe.

.

oOoOoOoOo

And now it was tomorrow. He was following Albus Dumbledore down Diagon Alley, with Remus at his side. He wore the curls loose and covered by a hood, and tamed out of his face by a bandanna of sorts … which conveniently covered his scar. Lily Potter's glamours had held up to the Goblins' scrutiny. But they didn't trust the new one on his scar to go undetected. However, while the Goblins would probably object to him wearing a glamour, they were unlikely to give a damn about an odd hairstyle-accessory.

It was also quite early. Early enough that the bank would just have opened, while Diagon was still mostly deserted. That way they would also have plenty of time to sort out everything. There was bound to be something to sort out.

Even if everything went smoothly. Which it would. Surely.

Hopefully.

The bank still looked impressive, the warning still threatened harsh reprisal to wrongdoers. The Goblins still looked grim, and warlike … at least those that weren't all business-like instead. But they all had lots of sharp teeth, whether they were threatening you or merely laughing about you. It was a bit hard to tell the difference.

They fortunately had an appointment. So when Dumbledore quietly identified their purpose, they were briskly led to an office. Time was money to a Goblin. And efficiency a time-saver. They hated dithering, or long-winded explanations.

And thus he found himself, not five minutes after arriving in this office, and shortly explaining their business, with a knife in his hand. As well as instructions to bleed into a crystal vial, from which he would then drip exactly seven drops of his blood on the spelled parchment next to him.

All for a fee, of course. But arranged with remarkable speed and efficiency. The sooner you sorted out one customer, the sooner you could attend to the next one. It also passed as good customer-service.

Well, he had bled once before to find out something about his parentage. He already knew the worst. He didn't need to find out who his parents were … only obtain confirmation of the fact. Why should he be reluctant to have it spelled out on the parchment? Proven by a Goblin sanctioned blood-test? Wizards might have forbidden those as Dark Magic, but still allowed them for the Goblins … after all, you might have to prove your identity yourself one day.

Plus forbidding the Goblins anything was risky stuff. There was a good reason why Binns could drone on so endlessly about Goblin-wars and rebellions.

There was easily enough blood in the vial now. He picked up the provided glass-dropper, and followed the directions of the Goblin on where on the parchment to drip the blood. His blood. To prove where his blood had come from.

When they touched the parchment, each of the drops spread out into a long line … which then writhed into the shape of a name. Spelled out in letters of blood.

Seven drops. Seven names. His own. His parents. Their parents.

Corvus Black. Son of Severus Snape, the son of Tobias Snape and Eileen Snape née Prince. And son of Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, daughter of Cygnus Black and Druella Black née Rosier.

Well. That was as he had expected, wasn't it?

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I am altogether very happy about the many positive reviews this story has received so far. I would like to address the one point of criticism I sometimes get: that it is taking too long to get to Hogwarts. I know. I am sorry for taking a long time, but … on one hand, there are simply things that have to happen beforehand. And on the other, I must admit that my control over the pace is surprisingly limited. You see, to some extent, this story is really writing itself. I try to leave out unnecessary things, but I am not always successful. So it is just going to take a while longer until they get there. Sorry. I hope you enjoy the story anyway.


	24. Lord Black

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

He sat staring at the parchment, feeling oddly numb inside. After a few moments, Remus put a comforting hand on his arm. He turned to meet the werewolf's concerned and searching gaze.

"Did you expect a different result?"

"I … don't know. Perhaps. I suppose some part of me still hoped it wasn't _her_ ..."

But here was the proof, spelled out in his own blood on the parchment. He was of her blood. Black blood. Irrevocably.

Blood was the family you _couldn't_ choose.

It made him doubly glad about the other half of the parchment, however. Even though he would have to conceal that … at least for as long as his father continued spying. He looked at the goblin, who was watching the wizards with a strangely detached curiosity. Corvus then covered the half of the parchment showing his father's side with his hand.

"Is there a way to … suppress this part for now?"

The goblin's gaze sharpened. "You do not wish to claim the Prince succession?"

He blinked, and lifted his hand to read the names once more. Eileen Prince. His paternal grandmother. Who was apparently from some old family. He would have to ask Snape about her. He met the goblin's shrewd eyes again. The curiosity in them was no longer detached.

"Not … presently," he managed after a few moments of gathering his thoughts. "It would cause … complications."

The goblin gave him a toothy grin, which was not very reassuring. "I see. Or not, as the matter stands."

Corvus shrugged, remembering another argument they had come up with. "My … mother is married … to another man," he pointed out delicately.

"Ah. Well," the goblin merely seemed to find this explanation amusing. "In that case … something might be done," he allowed.

"Would some … compensation aid in the process?" Dumbledore asked with a genial smile. "For wasting your time, of course."

The grin got wider. "Gold has been known to oil many wheels," the goblin agreed composedly. "Sometimes it has strange effects on the memory, as well. Our rituals have also been known to fail, at inopportune times. Apparently, cursed bloodlines are more common than one would expect," he suggested with a deadpan expression.

It was also clearly a question.

"Oh," he exclaimed with completely faked wide-eyed innocence. "I have always wanted to be from a cursed bloodline. How perfectly exciting!"

The goblin flashed him another grin and took a vial filled with a clear fluid out of a drawer, as well as another glass-dropper. And then he paused, with a raised eyebrow.

"You realise, that should you wish to reclaim what is about to be lost, you will need to repeat the earlier process?"

Corvus merely nodded in agreement, and then watched as the goblin, after subjecting him to a long, searching look, dripped the fluid on the three names of his paternal line. The names written in blood shrivelled up and vanished without a trace. This was followed with a dusting of some dark-grey mineral-dust or ash, which sparkled oddly. And promptly turned the areas of the parchment which had previously held the names into ominous looking splotches.

"And thus the ancestry curse has struck yet again," the goblin declared, sounding quite amused. "Most inconvenient, that one. Many an old bloodline has gone unclaimed because of it, I fear."

"Really?" Dumbledore asked with a broad smile. "How peculiar."

"More often than one would expect. Fidelity appears to be a foreign concept amongst wizards," the goblin sniffed disdainfully. "Of course even within the animal kingdoms, not every race is blessed with being firmly mated. Though occasionally, I must admit, the curse is more of a blessing … given the unfortunate … familial closeness of _some_ _marriages_."

"Well, I for one am grateful in this case. It is far better for my … mysterious father to be struck with that curse, rather than other curses which might … negatively impact his future health," Corvus said with a shiver.

The goblin looked at him gravely. "We do not usually care to involve ourselves in the politics of your kind, young Wizard. However, that does not mean we are _ignorant_ of it. Your mother's name is well known amongst those of us who keep watch. You have my sympathy," he added, eyeing Dumbledore. "Since your current company indicates you intend to stay out of the company _she_ keeps ..." he trailed off suggestively.

"And will what you saw on the parchment before the curse struck, remain confidential, Master Goblin?" Dumbledore asked with a twinkle, which did not belie the steel in his voice.

"That curse is most insidious, Headmaster. It makes it very hard to remember anything," he declared with a toothy grin. "Besides, our confidentiality is legendary. I hope you did not intend to cast a slur on it?"

"Certainly not. But as you so delicately put it, 'the company she keeps' has been known to exert a considerable amount of pressure … or oil many a wheel with gold … which might _restore_ memories, too."

The goblin's eyes hardened. "There are things we honour above any other, and the foundation of Gringotts itself rests on the concepts of confidentiality and security. We would never betray that for mere gold … and if that one could exert enough pressure to crack the Goblin nation, well, I do not expect the wizarding world to still be standing."

The old wizard nodded gravely. "My apologies for appearing to doubt you," he offered, bowing his head humbly.

"Accepted. But consider our history, Wizard. Most of the wars your kind held with mine were because they wanted to interfere with us, or attempted to _pressure us_."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed with a polite smile. "However, since fortunately the curse struck only one side of Mr. Black's heritage, might we move on to claiming the other?" he suggested blandly.

The toothy grin was back, and now decidedly avaricious. "Certainly. It will be of great benefit to have that account active again, and moreover held by someone who might be less … hide-bound than his ancestors."

"Very much so, Master Goblin," Corvus said with a grin of his own. "It would be my pleasure to shock whatever stodgy forebears of mine are watching from above … or below, as it may be."

The goblin nodded sharply, and rang a bell at his elbow. A guard immediately opened the door and stuck his head inside. "Take these customers to Garnuk, the Black account manager," he ordered, before turning his attention back to the party of wizards. "Good luck, Mr. Black. I suspect you may need it."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Garnuk the goblin appeared pleased to see them, once they presented him with the parchment from the blood-test. They were plied with tea while he arranged to have a distressing amount of ledgers brought from storage. As well as a small black box, which opened to reveal a heavy signet ring bearing the Black seal.

"This, Mr. Black," he explained, his eyes penetrating. "Is the Lordship-ring of House Black. Since there remain no claimants in the senior line, it now falls to the junior one. However, Cygnus Black sired only daughters, and the Black Lordship is strictly patrilineal. Thus the most eligible candidate is the eldest son of Bellatrix Lestrange née Black," he concluded, with a pointed look at the parchment lying between them.

Which meant Corvus. "How do I do this, then?"

"You put on the ring," the goblin said with a shrug. "You will know whether it accepts you … or not."

The last was spoken with a toothy grin that was once again anything but reassuring.

"What happens if it rejects me?"

"You would have to ask your own ancestors about that, Mr. Black."

That was even less comforting. On the other hand, if the ring was as old as it appeared, the ancestors who had it crafted likely had not yet been Dark wizards. Instead they merely believed in ordeals and sacrifice, according to Phineas. He must have looked rather apprehensive, as Garnuk's expression softened a bit.

"Have you been to the old house of the Blacks, young Wizard?"

Corvus nodded.

"Does it feel like … home to you? Welcoming?"

He relaxed a bit at that thought. "Yes. Yes it does."

"Then you probably have nothing to fear."

"All right," he said, taking a deep, fortifying breath. He studied the ring for long moments, trying to prepare himself. Of course nothing was going to happen. Nothing bad anyway. Then again, they were talking _magic_ here. Even the good could be overwhelming. Just in case it was, he readied himself as if for an Legilimency attack. The clouds also calmed the fluttering in his stomach. Because it would be all right. Surely.

When the goblin cleared his throat loudly, Corvus came back to the present. Right. Time was money. Enough with the dithering.

He plucked the ring from its nest of black velvet, feeling a light tingling in his fingertips at the contact. He drew another deep breath, wrapped himself in clouds as if he was about to apparate, and pushed it onto his right ring-finger. He didn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't … this.

Not this feeling of the world dropping away, while a strong sense of … connection stole all the way through him. It soothed at the same time as it ruthlessly invaded him. It felt liberating, even while it bound him. It was simply … family. Which was a crutch and a burden at once. Being the head of the family gave many rights … but also responsibilities. And while the feeling of connectedness was wonderful, it was also quite restricting.

Because there was a price to no longer being alone, he realised in that moment.

He had already seen that in his careful dance around his father. Being accepted, and wanted, was amazing in many ways. But also terrifying, because they now both had even more power to hurt the other. Not being alone also meant having to put up with others. And make allowances, sacrifices, and compromises. Forming a relationship, and maintaining it afterwards, was actually _work_. It didn't just happen by itself. The bonds between them were still so fragile … and yet already so strong at the same time.

Putting on this ring was the same. It connected him to the family, but it also bound him. It gave him rights and responsibilities in equal measure. But most of all it gave acceptance. He finally released the breath he had been holding. Because the ring _had_ accepted him. He looked back up at the goblin, who gave him another toothy grin.

"Congratulations and welcome, Lord Black, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Of course, his successful ascension to the Lordship was promptly celebrated with … paperwork. Several forms needed filling out in order to document everything for the Ministry, and apply for his emancipation and recognition at the Wizengamot. Dumbledore excused himself once these were drawn up and signed to take them directly to the Ministry. The sooner they were filed, the sooner there would be results, after all.

However, as far as finances were concerned, the Goblins already considered him the Lord. According to them, he was old enough to take control … and successfully putting on the ring proof enough of his rights to do so.

Therefore there was more paperwork, to formally claim and acknowledge everything. Fortunately, they didn't have to go over all those ledgers … Garnuk promised him a comprehensive overview of everything within the next few days. The goblin was quite satisfied with general directions for now, such as getting rid of any investments of a Dark nature. Corvus also asked him to increase the shares in the Prophet the Black family held … and buy into a publishing business. Remus gave him a questioning look at that one, but seemed satisfied with a vague 'Oh, just an idea I had the other day.'

Eventually, they would need to go over the shares and properties he owned in detail … but there was no real pressure. The account had been dormant for a while now, a few more weeks or even months would hardly matter.

Afterwards, Garnuk took them to the Black vaults. There were several smaller ones, serving for household purchases or to hold dowries and trusts for minors. Since these mostly held money, at least according to the ledgers, Corvus simply accepted the keys from the Goblin. He had to remember to give Winky the key for the household one later. The main vault, however, looked like a real treasure cave. Piles of coins dominated it, of course, but there were also a lot of chests of varying sizes, manufacture and age. Some of them held gems and jewellery, while others contained old manuscripts and books.

But far too many were filled with items that gave him the shivers when he carefully levitated the lids open. And the ring gave a warning tingle when he tentatively brought his hand closer. Well. They could deal with those later themselves… or do the sensible thing, and simply hire a team of curse-breakers to go over everything. He snorted to himself. It wasn't as if _paying_ was going to be a concern.

"Garnuk?"

"Yes, Lord Black?"

"I would like all this to be looked over, de-cursed if possible, or disposed of if not. The books have priority, and I would like to take them with me once they have been checked over. And make an inventory of all the other items, please."

"Certainly. We will bill the main Black account. What about the jewellery?"

"I'll come and look it over once it is safe. However, if you find any pocket-watches, add those to the books," he added as an afterthought. "Let me know once they are ready, and I will arrange to pick them up."

"Very well. Do you need anything else?"

"I think that should be all for now, Garnuk. Thank you for your help."

"It was my pleasure, Lord Black," the goblin replied with a sharp-toothed smile. "It will be good to put all this gold to work again. And … good luck with your emancipation."

"Thank you. I sincerely hope I will not need it, but ..."

"What will come, will come. Worrying is but a waste of time," he was told rather brusquely.

Yeah, right. Well, _all right_, the goblin had a point. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to worry, though. Still …

He found himself fiddling with the heavy ring on his finger. Which inevitably drew his eyes to the back of his hand. Success and certainty. Right. Just let them try to deny him … a bunch of measly Ministry officials wasn't going to get in their way.

Probably.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"What in the name of Merlin's … beard is going on, Albus?"

"And a good day to you, too, Alastor," Albus Dumbledore said calmly, apparently unperturbed at being accosted by an impatient former Auror upon entering his office.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What are you playing at?"

Blue eyes looked back innocently at the other man. "Nothing. What gives you that idea?"

"Come on, Albus, don't play coy with me. That fish smells to high heaven! Lupin was all protective of the kid, like he was his very own pup, and you kept me from finding out anything about him quite adroitly, too. Even Snape was … off. The distrustful bugger isn't usually that easily satisfied!"

"Hmm. Cauldron much?"

"What?"

"You calling someone else distrustful, Alastor. That is rather amusing, you must admit," Albus told the other man with an indulgent smile.

"Argh," Moody groaned, grinding his teeth in frustration. "I swear, one of these days you will choke on your secrets!"

"Maybe," the headmaster agreed vaguely, selecting a sherbet lemon from the dish on his desk before sitting down behind it. "On the other hand, secrets rarely _remain_ secrets if they are shared with too many people, wouldn't you agree?"

"I thought you trusted me?"

"Oh, I do. But some secrets aren't mine alone."

"So there _is_ a secret regarding that kid!"

"Perhaps. But if I felt you should be aware of it, I would have informed you."

"It's about his father, ain't it?"

"Mr. Black's father is a great mystery, indeed," Albus agreed serenely.

"Are you telling me Gringotts really didn't find anything?"

"Whatever makes you think that?"

"Oh, come on, I happen to know you were there this morning. I also know you filed a request for emancipation at the Ministry afterwards."

"Your sources are truly astounding, Alastor."

"And unfortunately limited, these days. So … who is it?"

"Who is what?"

"The kid's father, of course."

Alastor Moody was clearly running out of his limited supply of patience. Albus calmly took another sweet, peering at him over his half-moon glasses.

"You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"There is nothing to tell, I fear."

"What?"

"You should know the test sometimes … fails."

"How … provident ..."

"Indeed."

"So you _do_ know. It must be bad then, if you refuse to tell … and even go so far as to have it … lost."

"I cannot keep you from thinking whatever you wish," Albus said levelly. "But I would advise you to not get obsessed with finding out about this … when your energy would be spent much better elsewhere. However, as matters stand, I consider the boy under my protection."

"That's all you are going to say?"

"Yes. Trust me on this, Alastor. The boy is neither a risk to us, nor someone you need to investigate."

"No?"

"No. Unless you wish to waste your time, of course."

Moody growled in frustration. "I don't trust him."

"That is obvious. But I asked you to trust _me_, old friend. Will you do that?"

"Hmpf. Maybe."

"Well, I you wish to be stubborn, and remain suspicious, I cannot stop you. Don't do anything stupid, though," the headmaster said, his voice carrying a clear warning. "Digging for answers in the wrong places might attract most unwelcome interests ..."

"Oh, all right," Moody agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes, the false one doing a disconcerting extra spin. "I can accept that, at least. But I still want answers … eventually!"

"No doubt you will get them … at some point. For now … please leave well alone."

"Hmpf. Well, maybe you can at least clear up another puzzle for me."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Why did Tonks inform me she will need to take a sabbatical starting September?"

"Ah, that."

"Yes, _that_."

"That has actually nothing to do with your current pet-peeve. You see … Harry might not be able to return to Hogwarts this fall."

"Why-ever not?"

"His connection with Voldemort ..."

"It's getting worse, then?"

"Yes," Albus admitted, restlessly shifting some papers on his desk. "However, Nymphadora should be able to make everyone believe he is there, with the help of his friends. At least for a few weeks. Long enough so his real departure will leave a trail long gone cold."

"That's why she's been over there so much in the last couple of weeks?"

"Indeed. She is getting rather convincing as _Harry_. At least to anybody who doesn't know him well."

"And you want his friends to help … can you trust them to play their parts?"

"They should do well enough. It helps that they know Nymphadora, and as a friend. So their responses will be natural enough. We can put a mild compulsion on them to not call her by her real name … with their agreement, of course."

"Doubt they'll disagree, if it's for Potter's sake. Quite a close-knit group, that lot."

"Very much so. Meanwhile Harry will go … abroad. Distance from Voldemort will hopefully help him. As well as a different teacher for Occlumency."

"Aye. Those lessons with Snape were a total disaster from what I heard," Moody said, snorting scornfully. "You should have taught the kid yourself, Albus."

"You know why I couldn't. And now … the danger would be even greater."

"You would know best, I suppose," Moody capitulated, finally throwing himself into one of the stuffed armchairs. "Now there was actually something else I wanted to tell you about. Regarding those stupid new regulations that idiot Fudge wants to push through ..."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Winky?"

"Yes, Master Professor Snape, sir?"

Severus winced. The little female house-elf was truly a miserable and sorry sight, delivering her salutation with downcast eyes and in a dead, toneless voice which would not have come amiss in an Inferius.

"I believe you do not … enjoy being free, is that correct?"

"Noes, sir, Winky doesn't. I is being a disgrace. Bad Winky, bringing shame to her family. Give her clothes, no-one wants Winky now," the elf-girl intoned, still staring at the floor.

"So … if you could get a new family, would you want to be bound?"

"Yes, Master Professor Snape, Winky would. But no-one wants her. Work in kitchen. For _money_," she hissed in displeasure, showing some animation at last. "All the other elves are proper, look down on Winky."

"But if there was someone who wanted you … would you be true to them? Work diligently, and keep their secrets?"

The elf blinked at that, Severus' words apparently finally registering. She started nodding earnestly, meeting his eyes. "Yes, sir! Only they's not a _bad_ family? Winky is a good elf, happy to work, work all day long. Takes good care of master. But ..."

There was fear in the huge eyes. He sighed and crouched down in front of the elf, who looked at him in surprise, her eyes going even larger at the unexpected proximity.

"No, Winky," he told her patiently, his tone soft. Most people would have been astonished to hear him speak so gently. "Your new master would be a very nice young man. He also has a whole house for you to clean up. You can work as much as you like."

That idea clearly pleased her. "Winky will clean it all! And Winky never betrayed her old master either," she added with distress. "Winky did not do it! I is being … confused."

Given what he knew of her dismissal and the odd circumstances in the Crouch household, that was hardly surprising.

"I believe you," he said gently. "But you must take great care never to tell anyone your new master's secrets … unless he wants you to, of course."

"Would he punish Winky badly, Master Professor Snape?"

"No. But he might be in very great danger. You would not want your master to be hurt or die because of you, would you?"

She squeaked in fright. "Noes, sir! Winky would serve a good master with all her heart. Never tell anything to anybody!"

Severus gave the little elf a satisfied smile. "Well, in that case, please read the address on this paper ..."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Winky?"

"Yes, Master Black, sir?"

"You are not to punish yourself, ever. If you feel you have done something wrong, you are to come to me and I will assign you the punishment I see fit. If I think it necessary. But you will _never_ take it upon yourself, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master Black," the little elf said, wide-eyed.

"Now for the time being, you are to use this key to pay for all purchases. If anyone asks, you do not know who the owner of the vault is. Inform me when it starts running out, and I will give you a different key."

She nodded, taking the little gold key that Hagrid had given him so long ago … all of five years ago. Still, it felt like a lifetime.

"As for your duties in this house … you will obviously take care of the kitchen. We will discuss what dishes the regular inhabitants prefer later. You will also water the garden, and keep it from getting too overgrown. Cleaning … start with the rooms which are currently in use. Do not attempt any of the clearly unused rooms. They are not safe. Neither are the book-shelves in the library. This house is still full of Dark or cursed things," he told her, to more earnest nodding of her little head. "I do not want anything to happen to you by accident, you hear me, Winky?"

"Just as Master says," she agreed.

"It should take you quite some time to get those rooms cleaned up, so do not worry about the rest for now. There is no real hurry, we don't need the whole house. We also should do some redecorating, but again that is not really important. Oh, and if you do find anything suspect … bring it to one of us immediately. The same goes for any problem you may have."

"Of course, Master Black. Winky will do that."

"Right. Aside from me, you are to follow the orders of Remus Lupin, who will remain living in this house for the foreseeable future. I myself will leave for Hogwarts soon. You will also listen to Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, and Headmaster Dumbledore. Nobody else has the right to order you about. In fact, I would prefer it if you stayed away from other people. They may want to question you, and I'd rather they didn't."

More earnest nodding. "Winky will stay away. I is good at not being seen."

"And finally … get yourself cleaned up, Winky. Take good care of yourself from now on. That is an _order_," he told her firmly.

More wide-eyed stares, but he could tell she was pleased.

"Yes, Master Black. Winky will be a good house-elf! Master will not regret giving Winky a new family. Ever!"

He gave her a smile. "Great. Now … do you happen to know of any good place, muggle or wizard, to buy things like pillows and curtains and other house-hold fabrics?"

.

oOoOoOoOo

"I have handed in the documentation from Gringotts and the request for emancipation at the Ministry," Albus Dumbledore said, calmly taking a sip from his cup of tea. His eyes took in the kitchen, which was already much improved. Winky had spent the rest of the day in there, frequently muttering to herself. Apparently it _was_ possible to shift even the most ancient grime, at least for a properly motived house-elf.

"Good. How soon do you think we can expect results?"

"Actually, I would not be surprised to hear from them by tomorrow. This is too touchy a case for them to ignore and drag out ..."

"Indeed. So everything went smoothly today?"

"On my end, yes. Though I had a surprise visit from Alastor after I returned from the ministry."

"Oh dear. What did he want?" Remus asked, reaching for the tea-pot to refill his cup.

"As expected, he had learned about our Gringotts visit and wanted to know what we had found out about Corvus' … father."

Severus gave a rueful laugh, making a face. "Ever suspicious, the old goat."

"He called you a 'distrustful bugger', by the way."

"Did he now? Well, I guess I cannot really deny that one."

"He also asked about Nymphadora's sabbatical. I gave him the story about Harry having to leave the country. He seemed to buy it well enough."

"Hmm. Keep heading him off about Corvus, though. We do not need Moody stirring up things in the wrong places ..."

"I told him as much," Albus said with a sigh, stretching and making a pained face. "Getting old is overrated," he muttered, absently massaging his back.

"Getting all creaky?"

"Too much time spent sitting about today," the old wizard told him, getting up with another sigh. "Well, I shall take my leave and return to Hogwarts. I will let you know as soon as I hear anything."

"Thank you. And good night, Albus."

"Good night, Severus, Remus."

The two men watched him depart in silence. Which stretched on, oddly comfortable. Severus finally cleared his throat, which brought his companion out of his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"So we are one step closer ..."

"Don't worry, Severus. Everything will work out."

The dark-haired wizard snorted. "Easier said than done. I cannot help worrying about the boy. He is already under so much pressure … and it is hardly going to become easier."

"Of course. But he's always been quite brilliant in his own way. He's not half bad an actor, either. And he can think on his feet."

"Apparently that is not half of what he can do. To think I always believed he was merely _lucky_ ..."

"Well, I don't know how good he is at _planning_. But improvising … "

"Indeed. It still keeps throwing me, though, how I could have been so blind to how talented he actually is."

"Do not forget he is _your_ son. He may not quite aspire to your dazzling intellect … but he is still a very intelligent lad."

"Flattery, wolf? Yet why did he show so little of it in the past?"

"I doubt Lily's relatives would have appreciated an intelligent nephew to compare to their moron of a son ..."

"There is that, yes."

"I fear his friends also played an unwitting role in this," Remus speculated with a sombre expression.

"Hmm. You may be right. If he subconsciously feared showing up Miss Granger … or sparking off the jealousy of Ron Weasley."

There was a heavy silence for long moments.

"You know, Severus, I rather think this was the best thing to happen to him in a long time … maybe ever," the werewolf said slowly, eyeing the other wizard carefully.

"It certainly ended his torment at my hands … and may now give him the opportunity to let his true ability shine, you mean?"

"That too, but mostly he is no longer alone. He never had anyone he could truly _expect_ help and support from. Nor anyone whom he really wanted to _please_."

"So in desiring approval ..."

"He is finally simply showing his true capability," Remus finished for him. "There are far worse motivators. And truly, he is simply fast to pick up whatever we teach him. Which is not even such a new development. He was always pretty quick on the practical learning part … once he figured out how to do something. And now that he is letting himself use his intelligence fully ..."

"I suppose so. By the way, there is one thing I have been meaning to ask you."

"Yes, Severus?" Remus asked encouragingly when the other man did not continue.

"It does not seem to disturb you he is _my_ son? Not … Potter's?"

"No. Not really. He is his own person, and I like and value him for himself. But also … Severus … I am sorry. So very sorry for the way we treated you."

Severus stared at the other man blankly. That was … unexpected. Though … perhaps not really. The wolf had been _behaving_ like he regretted their past for quite a while. He had just not expected to actually hear the man ever say it …

"I hated what Sirius did … when he lured you to me. Absolutely hated it. I'd never forgiven myself, if I had ended up hurting or killing you. Or infected you," he added, looking decidedly sick at the thought. "I was really angry with him for a long time afterwards. I'm not sure I ever really forgave him … which was probably one reason why I was so willing to think him guilty of betraying James and Lily ..."

"Because he already betrayed your trust then," Severus said in sudden understanding.

"Yes," Remus admitted, with a pained expression. "Still, he was pack. It's hard to describe … but they were the first ones who accepted me. Unconditionally. Who did not fear me, or acted disgusted at my condition. In my place … you forgive a lot from someone like that. Because of that."

"I see ..." the dark-eyed wizard said slowly. "I suppose I can understand that. I would have given a lot for this kind of loyalty as well," he admitted ruefully. "Gave, in fact. Only it was not real, in my case."

Remus sighed. "Neither was it in mine, at least not entirely. Peter … and how they were so suspicious of me being the spy later ..."

"You know, my son has mentioned he thinks we have a lot in common."

The werewolf barked a laugh. "We do, don't we? Severus … I would like to believe we could be friends. Maybe we already are," he said tentatively. "I certainly would like that. Friends who accept and understand you, despite knowing your deep and dark secrets, are a rare commodity."

"What, the dark secret that you actually enjoy a Slytherin's company?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

Another laugh, and an amused shake of the head was his reply. "That, too. But well, I think you can see why you being his father doesn't make me like Corvus less. And your son is a rather amazing person in his own right."

"Yes. I have come to realise that as well," the Slytherin admitted with a rueful smile.

"Therefore his father can't be half bad either."

"Oh? Why should he? His mother certainly isn't any good."

"All the more reason for his father to be. The good has to come from somewhere!"

"You have strange ideas about inheritance, wolf," Severus growled mockingly. "And that is one horribly cheesy argument!"

"Would you rather I thought you were a horrible, evil bastard?"

"No! But … stop trying to turn me into ..."

"A good person?"

Severus gave a helpless laugh and stood up. "Whatever. And Remus … I think I would like to be friends, too."

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I have finally found someone who I believe would make a good Corvus. You should google for Mario Blanco, who is a Venezuelan male model. Of course the guy needs a paler complexion, and even darker hair and eyes, as well as Bellatrix' wild curls. He should also be a tad younger. But his facial structure matches the film versions of both Bellatrix and Sirius Black pretty well. Those two were quite well cast, in my opinion. However, my mental picture of Severus Snape is _not_ Alan Rickman. He is just way too old for someone who is in his mid-thirties, prematurely aged or not.

Thanks for all the reviews, kind words and the praise *blushes and mumbles something, doing a 'Harry Potter being praised' impression. To shortly answer some of the recent questions: Yes, there will be interactions with all the members of the extended Black family, and also Neville. I have plans for Hedwig, and currently no intentions to make Corvus an animagus. He will avoid talking Parseltongue, because well, it would give people all kinds of wrong ideas. Additional family inheritances mostly make sense in a Dumbledore bashing story, or if it turns out to be relevant to the plot. Which is not the case in this story. So it is only the Prince one, which has to remain hidden for now.

There have been several questions whether Corvus would be able to claim the Potter fortune, as well as various suggestions as to how this might be done. However, Corvus certainly cannot go and claim it openly, because he does not have Potter blood. Therefore doing a blood-test is impossible. If they look for adoption papers, they risk exposing the fact that Harry Potter _was_ adopted. Assuming there are any to begin with. And certain other ways which have been suggested, such as it coming back to Corvus via Dorea Black, are impossible as long as Harry Potter is still apparently alive. Which he will be for a while. He is supposedly going abroad, not dying. So to sum it up: Maybe something can be done at a later point. But at the moment, the Potter inheritance is unattainable.

oOoOoOoOo


	25. Changing the Truth

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

The next day started out normal enough. That is, if the definition of 'normal' included having lessons with someone who looked like himself. Correction: who looked like he used to. But while he no longer quite thought of himself as Harry Potter, it was nevertheless his reflection he'd seen in the mirror all his life. So it felt decidedly weird to see Dora looking like that, knowing he himself no longer did. Somehow it was worse than when she looked like he did now, as had been the case in most of their sessions so far. Because Corvus still wasn't the reflection he expected to see in the mirror.

However, from now on, Dora would assume this appearance whenever they were training together. It was just safer in case someone from the Order came around without warning, and wanted to meet 'Harry'. It also gave her further practise for Hogwarts, so Corvus had no real reason to object. But it was ... strange. Even more so to see 'himself' pout, mope and generally behave in a rather moody manner. Dora claimed she was simply copying what she'd observed in the past. It certainly matched what they'd discussed about how she should behave as Harry. But to actually see it acted out, on the face he still mostly thought of as 'his own' … well.

Had he really behaved like that? Worse, did he still? All this … teenage drama?

It was a most disconcerting thought. And rather distracting.

Which earned him a gentle lecture from Remus about not letting himself get distracted. After that, he made an effort to pay her no attention. The pretend moodiness got on his nerves, however. Honest, if he'd actually been like that, how had his friends managed to put up with him? All right, they were teenagers themselves. And so was he. He sure hoped he didn't act like that anymore, though. Yet in case he didn't, but used to, it begged the question of what exactly had changed. Well, aside from possibly everything, of course.

Finally, when Dora went for a break, he nerved himself and asked Remus.

"Did I really behave like that?"

The teacher sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes," he admitted. "You did. Sorry," he added at seeing Corvus' disturbed expression.

"Do I … still?"

"Sometimes you can be a tad sulky. Usually when you are tired. But mostly … no. Not anymore. You seem a lot more … content now. And more settled."

"Oh. Good."

That would explain a drastic change. Because Remus was right, he did feel content most of the time. Maybe not outright happy, but definitely content. It was knowing that he was wanted, and protected, and someone cared how well he did. That he had real connections to people, and was no longer floundering, all on his own. It was like having a security blanket to shield him from the world. A blanket partly made of fluffy white clouds, he realised after a moment. Because his increased proficiency in Occlumency was likely the other reason he was no longer such an emotional mess.

Clear your mind, indeed.

It also helped him sleep better. No longer were his nights constantly plagued by nightmares. Which in turn made it possible to deal with some of those … issues which caused the worst nightmares. It was simply easier to put things into a proper perspective when you weren't forced to relive them at their worst frequently. So yeah … there were actually quite a few reasons for a change.

In fact, all things considered, it would be more surprising if he _hadn't_ stopped being so moody and depressive. Because his new life really was much better. Mind, it was stressful at times. It was hardly perfect. But it was definitely better in many ways.

Now he only needed to work out why he felt vaguely guilty about that.

Shouldn't he rejoice things were starting to look up? Indeed he should. And he probably should also leave the survivor's guilt behind. He'd had a long talk with Remus about that shortly after Sirius' death. It hadn't helped much then. But now ...

Let's face it … neither Sirius, nor Cedric, would grudge him for finally getting something worth calling a life. Nor would the Potters. Depriving himself would not help those who were unfortunately gone. What he could, and should do now on, was to work hard to make their deaths count. To avenge them, and make the bastard snake-face pay. And maybe help create a better world in their memory. Moping and feeling bad would certainly not help with any of that. Having guilty feelings because he was doing better was just stupid.

And he'd already established that he had no more room in his life for stupid. So … take the good and appreciate it, and try to turn the bad into something better, too. That was the only way forward. As well as the best way to honour anyone who'd died because of him. Or for him. Or frankly, had died because _Voldemort_ was a murderous bastard.

Right. Onwards.

Aside from that, the morning passed fairly tranquil. The lessons went pretty well, only interrupted a few times when Winky popped by to ask them a question or show them something she'd found. It was also uplifting to confirm that yes, he was now much better at Transfiguration.

He'd never realised the importance of visualisation for the subject. But then, the theory consisted largely of laws and rules on what could be transfigured into what else, based on similarities and obstructions and whatnot. And the practical work was all incantations and precise wand-work. Which worked well enough. So given how McGonagall always stressed the importance of precision … how was he to know. That with the addition of really strong visualisations, like he now used in silent casting … it became ever so much easier.

Well, it might be another case of trees and woods, and people not realising they needed to tell him something. Or perhaps it was simply that he was so much better at visualising than others? Because if you couldn't picture the result perfectly and without effort, you were probably better off not doing it at all. It would just distract from the actual spell-casting. So why tell the students something which hardly anyone would be able to put into practise, and might even be dangerous? Still, whatever the reason, he was not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. Harry Potter had been merely adequate at Transfiguration. Corvus Black looked to be fairly exceptional, with some practise. It was definitely something to put him in good spirits.

It was at lunch when the bomb dropped.

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oOoOoOoOo

His father had shown up just before midday, since Corvus' daily headache was scheduled for afterwards. The four of them were peacefully eating their meal in the kitchen, with occasional banter and appreciative noises for Winky's cooking, when Dumbledore joined them. He didn't look very happy. Given that he also carried a stack of official looking documents and a couple of books, his expression promised complications.

"Albus? Is there a problem?" Remus asked tentatively.

The blue eyes were unusually stormy. "Please finish your lunch, everyone."

"Why do I suspect what you are going to tell us will rob us of our appetite?" Snape remarked with a frown.

The headmaster sighed and put his burden down on a sideboard. "It is a possibility," he admitted, sounding uncomfortable. "Nevertheless, some things are better faced on a full stomach. I will fill you in afterwards."

With that he sat down, accepted a plate from Winky, and refused to answer any questions. Lunch was finished in a tense, uneasy silence. Finally they were all done, and Snape gave Dumbledore a fierce glare.

"All right, we are done. Talk. Now."

"Oh, Severus, always so ferocious," the old wizard said with a smile which seemed forced.

"There obviously is some problem with the emancipation … so talk!" Snape snarled harshly.

The headmaster heaved a great sigh of capitulation. "I was indeed called into the Ministry early this morning … by the Minister himself, no less. And the advisory council of the Wizengamot," he added. "There was much heated discussion, but in the end they did agree to the emancipation. In principle. Provided ..."

Corvus swallowed around the constriction in his throat. He'd already struggled with the remains of lunch, as apprehension had sat heavily in his stomach. His imagination had gone into overdrive meanwhile. And now it was busy throwing everything at him that the Ministry could possibly want, in return for granting his emancipation.

"Albus ..." Snape growled, his voice carrying a clear warning for Dumbledore to stop stalling.

"They insist on questioning Corvus under Veritaserum to make sure he does not intend to follow in his mother's footsteps. In front of the full Wizengamot," the headmaster told them quietly, his unhappy expression from earlier returning full force. "I tried to argue for a more … restricted setting at least, but ..."

His father gave the old wizard an appalled look. Dora had paled. Remus looked slightly sick. And Corvus could only agree with those reactions. They had feared the possibility of Veritaserum, and considered various ways to get around it, but those all depended on a limited number of spectators. Switching or affecting the effectiveness of the potion would be impossible in front of the full Wizengamot. As for influencing the questions, or worse, the last resort measure of changing the memories of the interrogators … none of that would work under those circumstances.

"How can they demand _that_?" Dora asked, sounding horrified. "This is nothing like normal procedure for an emancipation, even when it involves a Lordship. They are treating him like a criminal!"

"Of course, but these are unfortunately not normal times. Usually they would not dare, as it sets a most inconvenient precedent for the future. However, they just saw Voldemort returned, and everyone is terrified. And then, mere weeks afterwards, someone claiming to be _Bellatrix_' son shows up and lays claim to the Black fortune and Wizengamot seat. Under these circumstances, it is somewhat understandable they wish to make sure."

"Yet most inconvenient for us. But what can we do now? We never counted on something so … public," Snape said, clearly frustrated.

This was indeed a huge problem. Worse, they could not get out of the situation without arousing a lot of suspicion. Because if Corvus Black refused this questioning … it would give a horribly wrong impression. Everybody would assume it was because he was on Voldemort's side. They would never suspect he was instead Voldemort's favourite enemy and main target, and desperately needed to hide the fact.

Dumbledore sighed and passed a tired hand over his brow. "I may have a solution. But first I need to test your son's progress in Occlumency. To see whether it is feasible at all."

Two pairs of dark eyes met in shared unhappiness.

"Do I really want to know what obscure technique you have dug up, Albus?" Snape asked darkly, his gaze never leaving his son's.

"Probably not, dear Severus," the old wizard admitted with a rueful chuckle. "However, if it works, it will solve our problem quite handily."

"All right then. Go ahead and test him, if you must," his father said, sounding resigned. The corner of his mouth was curved into a malicious smile, however.

Corvus could not entirely fault him for that smile. Because if Dumbledore felt at all guilty for what his decisions had done to Corvus' supposed 'childhood' … then he was in for some rather unpleasant surprises. He had learned a dirty trick or two, after all. Time to show the headmaster what he could do.

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oOoOoOoOo

Dumbledore eventually finished his guilt-ridden apologies. They had pleased Corvus' more vindictive side … and made him feel uncomfortable at the same time. He was perfectly happy, though, that he had spotted the old wizard's intrusion quite easily. And gratified by the fact that his ability to shuffle memories around and hide them clearly impressed the headmaster. Which apparently opened the way for whatever the old man had in mind …

"You have come incredibly far in the last couple of weeks," the headmaster praised yet again, looking relatively composed for someone who had been close to tears recently. "Which should, with the help of your father, allow us to use this method to shield you from the effects of the Veritaserum," he added, smoothing out a page in the ancient-looking tome he had brought out after they were done with the testing.

Said father was busy peering over the headmaster's shoulder at the visible page of the book. And frowning heavily, which was less promising than Dumbledore's enthusiasm.

"_Fidelius Mentis_, Albus? Do you really think he is ready for something like that?" he asked with disbelief in his voice.

"I do. Because the two of you have come far in trusting each other and working together as well, or is that not the truth?" Dumbledore countered with a touch of challenge, looking back over his shoulder at the younger wizard.

"Much further than I would have believed possible. But this ..." Snape admitted stiffly, still studying the page intently. "This demands an entirely different magnitude of trust."

"Corvus has the necessary skills at ordering memories. And you should easily be able to affect the connections. The question is simply whether he trusts you to do it. I maintain that he does."

"But enough for this?" Snape asked, raising his eyes from the book to stare directly at his son.

"Enough for what?" Corvus retorted, somewhat impatiently, as his father kept staring at him in assessment.

"We are talking about an Occlumency technique which is somewhat similar to the _Fidelius_ charm," his father explained carefully. "It is, however, rather … advanced. And frankly, rarely used in this way, as it demands a high level of trust between two Occlumens. Since most people who resort to Occlumency do so out of a need to hide things … _trust_ is usually an inherent problem."

"Oh."

"I do actually agree with Albus that your ability to handle memories is adequate for this, but … you would need to fully trust me with your memories, Corvus. To let me see, and manipulate them, without fighting me. And … I simply do not know, if you can really do that?"

The last sounded very tentative and doubtful. But it was, indeed, the big question. Whether he, Harry Potter, who had learned the hard way not to trust anybody, could really trust Snape … his father ... enough to let him mess about with his mind. A month ago, the answer would have been a clear no. Now … he really didn't know. Yet there was a great deal of _need_ for this. All the more so, because he had just automatically thought of himself as _Harry Potter_. If someone asked him for his name, it was still his first impulse to say Harry Potter, even though it was not exactly true anymore. But it was a deep-rooted habit.

A problem which would be horribly compounded when under Veritaserum.

So. Needs must. Though he had never really understood the rationale behind the whole quote. How exactly did the devil drive? Or what, or where? But he understood the _meaning_ well enough. He needed to trust, though every instinct told him not to. He stared back into his father's eyes, which were glittering darkly with intensity. Did he trust? Could he trust? Did he even want to trust this man, who had always gone out of his way to make Harry Potter's life unpleasant.

On the other hand, as far as seeing the memories was concerned, Snape already knew a lot about him. And even last year, during those horrible Occlumency lessons, he'd never gone and blabbed about them. At least as far as … Corvus knew. There was one thing he did know, however. Indisputably and without the least doubt. His father cared a great deal for his son's safety. The man had always protected him, even while he was still detested Harry Potter. He could definitely trust in _that_. Still ...

"Maybe you could explain to me how this is meant to work? And exactly why it needs so much trust?"

"It has to do with the way Veritaserum works. The potion depends largely on automatic responses," Snape explained, frowning slightly. "You know the impulse to give an automatic answer? Like when I say 'black', you would say …?"

"White?"

"Indeed. There are … connections between words, facts, and memories. It has something to do with the way our minds are organised. The Veritaserum strongly enhances these connections, making it almost impossible not to give the immediate, and generally truthful response. Now, despite the name, the _Fidelius Mentis_ does not actually lock memories or facts away, not as such. It instead removes something from them. It is not easy to explain," he added with a frustrated sigh.

Corvus gave him an encouraging smile.

"It affects the connections between facts and memories by disrupting associations. Afterwards, associated memories can only be accessed clearly by someone with the key to the _Fidelius_. Which is you and the 'secret keeper'. Though normally this technique is done internally by the Occlumens himself. To have someone else perform this … requires you to trust them to tamper with the very nature of your memories. Something which the mind will normally rebel against."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense, I guess."

"At your current skill level, you are as yet not able to do this all by yourself. However, I could also not do it without your willing participation. You would need to sort and … bundle the memories, for lack of a better term … allowing me to afterwards disassociate them," Snape continued his explanation, clearly struggling with the words. "But you would have to allow me do that, without fighting it."

"Basically, this technique works against Veritaserum, because it disrupts the immediate connection between a question and the corresponding answer. Which allows you to give a different answer, despite the serum. It also makes the underlying memories difficult to access for anyone who was not involved in the disassociation process," Dumbledore summarized. The old wizard had been watching the two of them with an annoyingly knowing twinkle in his eyes.

But the day the headmaster stopped trying to meddle, was probably the day the sun stopped rising in the East.

"So instead of having to follow the impulse to say Harry Potter, I'd be able to say Corvus Black, for example?"

"Yes. Unless you have yet another identity hidden away somewhere?" Snape asked with a sardonic smile.

"Well … "

Corvus gave his father an innocent smile back.

"Right," the man said drily. "However, a side effect you may or may not appreciate is that to some extent these connections are of an emotional nature."

"Which means?"

"That it also puts the memories and facts under _Fidelius_ at an increased emotional distance. They are still there, of course, but … much less present. Emotionally, that is."

"So I would likely feel even less like Harry Potter?"

"A great deal so, I fear. Which is one major reason why this technique is not often used. However, it is something which can be executed by another Occlumens … and you are unfortunately not advanced enough to foil Veritaserum by other means yet."

Well. All things considered, emotional distance would be more a benefit than a flaw. Because regrettably, far too few of _Harry's_ memories were really good ones. Being distanced from them would mostly be a blessing. So this was actually another reason to go through with this.

But would his _subconscious_ _mind_ allow this tampering … without fighting it? On an instinctual level?

He looked back into his father's eyes. Could he actually do it? That was the big question. He was all right with it happening in principle. He certainly wanted to be safe from the Veritaserum. But he still might fight Snape, simply because he didn't have the necessary instinctive trust to allow him to mess with his mind. However, there was really only one way to find out ...

"Does this have to be done all in one go?" he asked. "Or could you test it with something, so we know if it is possible at all?"

"No, it does not need to be in one piece. I take it you would want it done as late as possible?"

"Well, when is the Wizengamot meeting scheduled for, sir?" Corvus asked the headmaster.

"Tuesday, dear boy," Dumbledore told him. "Which gives you a little time … though not overly much."

"Do you think I could go visit the Weasleys on Sunday? I think I would like to meet them one last time … as Harry that is."

Snape's gaze turned calculating. But also understanding. "Because after the _Fidelius_, you will find it harder acting like Harry?"

"It's very likely, isn't it? So if this does work, I'd like to delay it until … Monday? Unless that is too close?"

"No, that should be doable, if we keep the whole day free for it. Provided we can do it at all, of course. We will practise bundling memories starting today, though. That will make the main task easier. What would you like to use for a test?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe my birth-date? That's one of the standard questions they always ask, isn't it?"

"Yes. And a good choice, since it is a concrete and simple fact, while still linked with multiple memories."

They had settled on the 12th of July for Corvus' supposed birthday. It was far enough from his real one to put him safely out of range of 'as the seventh month dies'. And as far as they could tell, no-one had looked at the tapestry within the two weeks prior to his real birthday. As to why Corvus had not shown up there beforehand … in case anyone asked, they would simply go with the real explanation. That he had been hidden for some reason, but whatever spell had been used to make him forgotten expired upon his reaching the age of consent.

Not that anyone was likely to question it, but you never knew. And there was always Moody. It was better to have an explanation on hand, just in case. As for the tapestry itself … Corvus had discovered today he was able to transfigure the weaving of the date itself. The thing was normally quite resistant to being spelled, but he'd managed it easily. Though given he was wearing the Lord-ring, maybe that was not so hard to explain. He'd have to redo it frequently, of course, to be on the safe side. It would not do to have it wear off at an inopportune moment.

But it was ever so much safer than a glamour. Nothing to dispel or see through. And once he left for school, the thing could conveniently go into 'storage'. Or better yet, he could see about having it restored instead. Surely all those burnt spots had done the spell-work no good, and it would make a perfect explanation for its absence, too. He would ask at Gringotts next time he went there.

"Son of mine … I would like to get this done _today_, if you don't mind?"

Oops. There he had gone wool-gathering again. He gave his father a slightly sheepish smile.

"Sorry. How do we do this then, Padre?"

"Hmm. I believe it would be a good idea for you to be in a trance. As deep as you can go. You are much less likely to fight me in that state, methinks."

Corvus nodded his agreement. "Right. So … let's do it?"

"Indeed. Make yourself comfortable and start with breathing exercises while I go over the text again to ensure I have understood this perfectly ..."

Right. Nothing new about a trance. Nothing he had not done before. Nothing he needed to get nervous about. This would either work or not. He could leave it all in the able hands of his father … and the trust would either be there or not. That was the lovely thing about being in a trance … you had nothing to worry about. It was a lot like being under the _Imperius_ … only not quite. There was the same feeling of floating and listening to directions, yet nothing to _force_ him to do anything. He didn't have to listen. He was simply much more likely to do so, and trust the deep, smooth voice directing him.

The voice he had come to associate with _safety_.

It was a very satisfied headmaster indeed who left Grimmauld Place a while later, knowing his solution would work.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"I promise to keep Draco safe to the best of my ability. I already told you I would. But I will not gamble my life on his willingness to see reason and cooperate! I will do what I can, but I refuse to fall with him … because of his mistakes, or worse, his wilfulness!"

"Severus ..."

"Do you honestly think our Lord would refrain from punishing all of us in case Draco fails … and I had to step in? Do you really believe he would be appeased if your son failed and I had to act in his stead? Which I would have to, if I bound my life to his. No, Narcissa. Do not ask this of me. It is folly, utter folly!"

The message arranging for this late-night meeting had been politely worded, and exceedingly formal. Narcissa Malfoy, pleading for his help in person, was anything but. She was distraught. Wringing her hands, and almost in tears. All of which earned her disgusted looks from her sister, who once again had accompanied her. Though this time, Bellatrix was not looking too well herself. Her dress was dirty and torn, and she could not hide the spasmodic twinges of her hands. The Dark Lord had been most enthusiastic in his use of the _Cruciatus_, when his former favourite proved unable to answer his questions.

How far she had fallen from the beautiful, confident seductress of the past.

Seeing her now was quite unsettling. Or more accurately, the thought that this demented wreck had given birth to someone like Corvus. His son had inherited some traits from her, no doubt, but in most ways they were so very _different_. As for their appearance … they shared the same impossible curls, though hers were matted and unkempt at present. They had similar features, though her current gauntness disguised that fact to some extent. And those lips which could be so sultry and seductive in her face, were still given to rather shy smiles in her son.

However, the mere act of bearing a child did not make a woman into a _mother_. Especially, when she could not even remember it. The contrast between the two sisters was really quite extreme. One was willing to debase herself for her only child, while the other was only interested in saving her own skin and perhaps gaining power over her offspring. It made him more sympathetic with Narcissa, helplessly caught in webs spun by others.

But he would not swear his life to what she wanted of him, not for all the desperately pleading looks in the world. Especially now that he knew his days as a spy were numbered. And when he finally had a very good reason to stay alive, too.

"No. I will not. I cannot. You do not understand what is at stake here. You do not know all that is happening … nor what plans the Dark Lord truly spins."

"And you do, Snape?" Bellatrix snarled at him.

Her frequent hostility towards him made him wonder if she remembered at all that he had shared her bed at some point. Maybe he had made her forget that little fact along with their son … but he could hardly ask her. Not without the risk of alerting her to possibilities. So he just gave her a cold look, flicking his eyes up and down her figure with his usual disdain.

"More than you these days, _dearest_ Bellatrix," he told her silkily. "Tell me, did you enjoy the attentions of our Lord after I informed him of your … failings?"

"How dare you! It was all your fault ..."

He interrupted her before she could start to vent her rage properly. "My fault you had a child and lost him? How can that be _my_ fault? I was, however, the one to discover the fact, and to bring it to the Dark Lord's attention. Before he had to learn it from other sources … at the same time as everyone else. You cannot believe this would stay a secret?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

"If we got to the brat in time ..."

"But it is already too late," he cut her off again. "Dumbledore himself has his claws into _your_ son. You should have been the one to raise him for the Dark Lord's glory. Instead you carelessly lost him … and you cannot even remember how," he continued relentlessly, openly mocking her. "And you call yourself a witch?"

She appeared quite ready to start hexing him, but Narcissa latched onto her sister's arm and held her back.

"Enough! Severus! I beg you … please … reconsider!"

"Not again! Did you not listen to me at all, woman? I will help Draco … if the foolish boy lets me. I will protect him … as much as I am able. The Dark Lord does not look kindly on failure. And if Draco fails, and another has to finish his task for him, he will still see it as failure! I will _not_ tie my very life to that risk. This is my last word on the subject, Narcissa. As for you, Bella ..." he turned his attention to the older sister, who was glowering at him, her eyes full of impotent fury.

"Our Lord has already tasked me with what you asked … and I will deliver my findings to him only. I care not a whit whether you manage to wriggle out of your own mess! If you could not take care then … why should I now?" he told her venomously. "Do not think to make demands of me … at the moment the Dark Lord holds you in little esteem … and much less trust than before."

"All because of you, traitor!"

He sneered at her. "You have only yourself to blame. You obviously sought only your pleasure, and now you must pay the price. So who truly was the traitor there, hmm? Though … it is convenient you are here ..."

"Convenient?" she spat at him. "I'll show you convenient, you bastard!"

"I need your blood, witch. Our Lord wishes to know for certain if the brat is really _yours._ Who knows, you may yet be lucky and he is not, after all," he pointed out coldly. "I hope in your own interest you will cooperate ..."

The rage in her eyes gave way to calculation. "Could you make it … so he is not?" she asked slyly.

He gave her another disdainful sneer. "Salazar save me from stupid women. What good would that do, if shortly afterwards the goblins declare the opposite? You and your sister are obviously well matched in not thinking things through."

Narcissa's expression turned pained, and she turned her face away. Bellatrix was another matter. Of course, he was not helping with all the mockery he was subjecting her to. Her fingers flexed towards her wand as she glared at him. Ah ...

"Are you going to curse me, when your hands yet tremble and twitch from our Lord's parting gift? When the pain of the _Cruciatus_ still burns through your nerves?" he taunted her cruelly. "When you can hardly grasp that wand? Go ahead and try it," he challenged her. "Show me what you can do after you have been on the receiving end of your favourite spell."

The fingers stilled … but if looks could kill …

"Indeed. Be wise, Bellatrix, and pick your battles well. You do not want me even more your enemy … not at the moment, _dearest_. Not when you have fallen out of favour, and are in such poor shape. Now … your blood," he demanded imperiously, half turning to pick up a knife and an empty vial from a side-table.

He watched her coldly as she sliced her finger, deeper than necessary in her anger, filling the vial and thrusting it at him. He simply took it from her, and put it away carefully in an inside pocket.

"That done … get out," he told her harshly, flicking his fingers at the door, which sprang open sharply. "Narcissa," he added courteously, inclining his head politely. "I will keep you informed. And _again_, I promise to do what I can for Draco."

Neither of the two sisters were happy to leave, their tasks essentially unfulfilled. One had pleaded for the life of her son, the other demanded information she could use against hers.

So similar, so different. One might yet redeem herself, or at least leave this madness behind. The other …

There was nothing to salvage there. Nothing. Between the Dark Lord and the Dementors, there was nothing worthwhile left. Nothing. Only the legacy of a son, whom he would keep from her.

Far, far away. If they never even set eyes on each other again, all the better. She had done enough damage to Corvus as it was. Not that he held any grief for the mutt, but Black's pointless death had hurt his son. For that alone, she deserved her current predicament. And more, so much more. Then again, the Dark Lord was not exactly known for his forgiveness of failures. She would likely suffer more before he forgave her. If he ever did.

As his eyes roamed over the dingy sitting room of his father's old house, which only his mother's love had once kept from being totally unbearable, Severus considered all the mothers of house Black that he knew …

Walburga, who lost both her offspring because she clung to empty blood-purity ideals and propaganda. And who was now ironically falling for the charm and deceptions of his half-blood son.

Bellatrix, who first lost all innocence because of her fascination with the Dark Lord and his teachings, and later her mind to the Dementors. And because of that, she had lost her son before she even knew him.

Narcissa, who had recently discovered to her desperation that thanks to losing her husband to the Dark Lord, she was likely to lose her son as well.

And finally Andromeda, who lost her old family because she turned her back on blood-purity, and gave it all up for a highly improper love.

All in all, it looked like she made the best choice by far. Not that the other three were likely to agree …

But no matter what, he would do his best to keep the children of the three sisters whole and alive. And maybe the next generation born of Black blood would not find themselves on different sides of the divide.

Maybe. Redemption could perhaps not be considered the most typically Slytherin of ambitions, but it would definitely need a lot of cunning to achieve.

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AN: I am really very sorry for not updating in over a month. I could make various excuses, but in the end, it would be just excuses. Let's instead say a horrible lack of motivation and an utter absence of inspiration combined into a most unproductive month, and leave it at that. On the plus side, careful consideration of what I still need to have happen made me realise I should be able to wrap the summer up in another six to ten chapters at most. Exactly how long depends on how much I compress or extend some things, and whether some of the characters end up wanting to have long conversations again. However, it really should not take much longer to finally get to Hogwarts.

To be honest, I have no idea yet how extended Corvus' interactions with Neville and the various Black relatives will be. It will happen. That is about all I know at this point. The extent is entirely up to the part of my brain which writes this story. A lot of the interactions so far were not planned beforehand, but simply wrote themselves. Some characters kind of butted their way in and are now here to stay (I did not plan for Remus to be so important, nor for Phineas Black). So they might yet play an important role … or not. I am sure they will let me know.

As always, many thanks for the lovely reviews, whether you are one of my regular returning reviewers, or someone new letting me know you enjoyed the story so far. I really appreciate all of you. A few quick answers to some of the other recent questions: 'Harry Potter' needs to stay alive for the moment, as he is the perfect red herring for Voldemort. Severus and Remus will stay 'just friends', though if Remus gets his act together with Dora, they may yet become sort of in-laws. And there are no Hallows in this story, therefore no resurrection stone, and no talks with any dead characters, sorry.


	26. One Last Smile

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"When I put on the ring, it gave me this most amazing feeling. Like a really intense connectedness to _family._ It was wonderful. But it was also a bit … frightening. It was almost too much, if that makes sense?"

Yes, the ring, the Black Lordship ring which now graced his hand. Fashioned of heavy old gold, with the family seal etched into a large black onyx. In a way it was actually lucky Sirius had never claimed the Lordship himself. Because it would have been impossible to reclaim the ring, had it gone through the veil with his godfather. He couldn't help wonder though, what would have happened if Sirius hadn't died. Whether he would have been willing to claim it now, in order to shield his godson from Bellatrix.

Provided, of course, that Sirius would have been able to look past Corvus' real parents. And still wanted his cousin as a godson, despite everything.

But he would never know.

"Am I to assume you have never known proper family care, if you found the experience _frightening_?"

"I suppose you could say that, sir," Corvus admitted reluctantly.

He hated talking about the way Harry Potter had grown up. He didn't even like to think about it. But he would have to face it on Monday, when they performed the _Fidelius_. It might be helpful to unload some of the negative feelings that came with his past beforehand. It simply was hard. Very hard.

"Did your father truly chose so poorly in the people he left you with?"

"Actually, no. I think his choice would have been great. But … remember what time it was, sir?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." The portrait looked sympathetic, or as much as someone like Phineas Nigellus Black could manage. "They did not live long enough to raise you then?"

"No. Which left me in the care of … people who did not consider me family at all. They took charge of me only grudgingly. You could say they were more or less forced to, in fact. And they did not like magic, nor did they like me much. To them I was always an outsider, spoiling the perfect _normal_ family they could have had without me."

"You have turned out well then, given such an upbringing," Phineas commented, frowning in obvious displeasure at whoever had dared treat his descendant in such a way.

"Oh, they did what they saw as their _duty_," Corvus told him, trying not to think of the very minimal amount of duty the Dursleys had given him. "But there was no affection, or care. I was always an intruder to the harmony of their family. I never belonged," he concluded with downcast eyes.

He heard the old wizard sigh. "One day, young Corvus, you will have to tell me the whole truth of your past. Not just those deceptions and half-truths. Surely it cannot be so bad? And I am bound by oath not to betray you ..." he added, his voice trailing off suggestively.

Corvus kept his eyes lowered, avoiding the piercing, inquisitive gaze of his forefather. His actual great-great-great-grandfather, if he'd managed to count the greats right. They were directly related. Nothing sideways about it.

"You might think differently, if you knew, sir."

"You must realise a comment like that simply reinforces my suspicion?"

"Suspicion, sir?"

"I am neither blind nor deaf, young man. There have been plenty of clues … and I had time to put them together. You fear I may dislike you for your past, do you not? Or disapprove of it, at least?"

Corvus stared silently at the floor, not sure what to reply. Which was probably confirmation enough for his forbear, sharp as he was.

Phineas sighed again. "Of course, it is as yet an _unconfirmed_ suspicion," he stressed the word. "I must admit the thought, when it first occurred to me, left me feeling somewhat conflicted. But it was after speaking with you, and finding you worthy of my time and attention. After meeting you without preconceptions or prejudice. Which helped me consider the possibility with a far more open mind than I might have had otherwise. And I came to the conclusion that it does not matter. Ultimately, it changes nothing."

That really sounded like Phineas had worked it out. Still ...

"Given what you just told me of your former caretakers, I would surmise you are very much ruled by a fear of rejection. You also do not trust easily, do you child?"

Corvus shrugged lightly, still avoiding the calculating gaze of the portrait. "Yes, sir," he admitted quietly.

"You must also realise, that in order to properly help you, especially with Slytherin, it would be much better if I _knew_?"

"Probably, sir."

"Yet you do not wish to admit it, despite my oath?"

"I … "

"Do you find it so very hard to admit?"

He finally lifted his eyes to meet the intense stare directly. "To you, yes sir," he said.

"And why would that be? Why should that be?"

"I just … "

"Do not wish to be rejected," Phineas finished for him. "Because I have met you before, under less than favourable circumstances, no? Because you were very much not a Slytherin then?" the old wizard asked with a raised eyebrow. But the curving of his mouth conveyed a definite sense of amusement. Which was reassuring, in a way. It indicated that he really did not mind.

"Yes, sir," Corvus finally confirmed.

"So. Will you say it, too?"

"I … I simply felt you would be disappointed," he hedged.

"Why should I? Because no matter who you _thought_ you were, you are truly of my lineage. Magic itself proclaims you as such. You could not wear that ring, were you unworthy. Though I suspect I do not know enough of your history, to understand why you are so insecure. Which is a trait most unbecoming in a _Black_, child," the old wizard chided, though his tone was gentle.

"Sorry, sir."

"What have I told you about apologising like that, young man?"

"Not to, sir," Corvus said with a wince.

"Then why do you persist in it?"

"Because … because that's what I was taught all my life," he admitted bleakly. "When I said I was their duty, it was the wrong word. I should have said _burden_," he spat. "And I thought, then, that they _were_ my family. That the woman raising me, if one call it that, was in fact my mother's sister."

"Instead ..."

"She was merely the sister of my foster mother. No matter how willingly the … Potters took me in, her relatives were not mine," he said. There, he had admitted it. "We are not related at all. And I am glad about that. Because they were _horrible_!"

"If only we had known, child ..."

"Well, there was a reason my father hid me away with them. Even with my mother in Azkaban, would I really have been safe around the old Blacks? With someone like Walburga?"

"Maybe not with them, no. But your father ..."

"I know. I find myself wishing for that, too. But it does not matter. There simply wasn't any way for anyone to know, once the deed was done. Because there was no-one left who remembered," he concluded glumly.

"No. But because of that circumstance, we have much to rectify, do we not? There is far too much you do not know at all, thanks to your lack of proper upbringing! Honestly, the Lord Black raised by _muggles_!"

"Hey, don't blame me for that," Corvus protested instantly.

"I do not. But I could blame you for keeping the truth from me, which would have led to me overlooking some of your deficiencies!"

"Sor ..."

He caught himself before he finished the automatic apology, and glared back at the portrait. "I simply did not want my past to negatively impact our relationship. I also believed the keeping of secrets to be properly _Slytherin_. Was I incorrect in that assumption, sir?" he asked with a disdainful expression, narrowing his eyes.

"Ah, much better. See, you can learn."

Honestly, the things a Slytherin would give you approval for. Phineas was a lot like his father in that respect. As well as always pushing and prodding, and never satisfied unless you gave it your best. On the other hand, what help they gave in return was also often … better, or at least far more tailored to the problem.

"However, under the circumstances, you have to admit this is one secret which was far better exposed. I do not hold your past against you, young Lord Black. Because this is who you truly are, and I consider it both my duty and my privilege to educate you properly from now on!"

"Thank you, sir."

For your help and support. For not holding my upbringing against me. Nor my past behaviour. And for not rejecting me, even though I used to be Harry Potter, the brash Gryffindor. Thank you, indeed.

"So, would you ever have told me on your own?"

"I … maybe it would have been easier after Monday."

"And what is so special about _Monday_?"

"I don't know if anyone has told you yet, but I have to appear before the Wizengamot on Tuesday. They want to … question me. Under Veritaserum," he added.

The old wizard was clearly shocked. "They dare challenge the Lord of House Black like that? Yet … you do not appear overly worried about it …?"

"Well, that would be because of Monday, sir."

Phineas sighed and crossed his arms, looking annoyed. "Do I have to drag _everything_ out of you today, child?"

Corvus flashed him a wry smile. "Sor … apparently so, sir. It seems to be a day for … difficult topics."

The old wizard simply arched an eyebrow at his descendant, clearly waiting.

"You see, we actually have a way around the Veritaserum," he explained. "Professor Dumbledore found a method which appears to work quite well."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It's an Occlumency technique which will sort of … bury … my past. Which will happen on Monday. So afterwards, because I will not remember things as … directly, it might also be easier to admit ..."

"What you still haven't directly admitted," Phineas pointed out ironically.

"I … am working up to it, sir. Anyway, afterwards I will also be able to tell the Wizengamot the _right_ truth, if you know what I mean. But what I'm actually more worried about is ..."

"I cannot help you if you do not tell me your concerns, child."

"I do realise that, sir. I am simply not used to asking for help," he admitted, feeling discomfited with the conflicting emotions in his chest.

Don't ask, don't tell. Those had been the two key-words defining his childhood. As was the knowledge that he had no-one to turn to for help. That he needn't bother asking for anything, because he wouldn't get it anyway. But things were different now. And if anyone could help him in dealing with the Wizengamot, it was the sly old Slytherin in front of him. But ...

"That much is obvious. You _have_ to get over this, young Corvus."

"I know. So … well … the problem I have is ..."

"Just say it," Phineas urged him, in a remarkably gentle tone.

"I don't understand myself why this is so difficult, sir," Corvus told the portrait ruefully, shrugging helplessly. "Anyway … I think I'll be fine with the questions. We have worked out what they are likely to ask. But it's possible I will have to speak in front of everybody, too. After all, if the emancipation goes through, I will be able to take up the Black seat on the Wizengamot. And because of that, I have to convince them I'm not just some kind of puppet, or someone they need to worry about ..."

"Then one thing you need to do first of all, is to find yourself a good proxy beforehand."

"A proxy?"

"Someone who will stand in for you, and cast your vote in your absence according to your wishes. And who can also advice and help you, and keep you from making too many mistakes. If you pick the right person, it will also lessen the fears of many of the other Wizengamot members."

"This is an excellent idea, sir. But I don't know who …"

"Depending on which side you wish to align yourself with, you might ask the headmaster for his suggestion. Or you could chose the faction leader for the neutrals. I doubt the pureblood traditionalists would work out for you, though," Phineas added with a sardonic expression.

"Yeah, not likely," Corvus agreed with a roll of his eyes.

"Do not roll your eyes, young man. And refrain from sloppy language. Especially next Tuesday!"

"I know, I know. But now that you know, sir, can you understand this is not easy for me? I constantly have to watch what I say and do."

"Indeed. Speaking of what you are saying … always try to leave people guessing, if you can. Unless leaving them with a firm opinion, no matter if true or false, is more beneficial to your aims, of course."

Very Slytherin advice, but true. And he had Dumbledore as a most excellent example on how to give answers without really answering anything.

"And finally, remember _Lord Black_ does not come as a supplicant. Yes, you are asking for an _early_ recognition … but in a year you _will_ be of age anyway, and hold the seat, no matter what they may decide now. They cannot take your status or heritage away. At best, they can delay things. Remind them of that … and that they do not want to risk your mother gaining influence over you."

"I think the new Minister is afraid I'll follow in her footsteps anyway. Or else be Dumbledore's pet. He doesn't seem to fond of the headmaster, either."

"In that case, aligning yourself officially with the neutrals may be your best choice by far. Come speak with me some more, before … Tuesday. I may have more advice for you, but I need to think on this."

"Thank you, sir."

"You are most welcome, young Lord Black. Always remember your true birthright. Your potential has been wasted quite enough … now is your time to shine!"

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oOoOoOoOo

Once again he hesitated in front of the floo. Only this time he was about to go visit his friends, for a day of carefree relaxation. Or rather the pretence of being carefree, because in reality he would constantly have to watch himself. Which made it unlikely he'd be able to relax all that much. He was also wearing a false guise, for a relative value of false. Because it was Harry's face and Harry's clothes he was wearing, and Harry's Firebolt he was carrying … all of which had been his, and in a way still was, though it actually had never been … while it had. Only not really.

Thinking about the strange paradox which was his life always made his head hurt.

Because he had been Harry Potter, even though that turned out to be an untruth. But he had thought he was. There had been nothing to make him believe otherwise. All the evidence had pointed to it. There had been no indication whatsoever it wasn't the truth.

Until his birthday.

Ever since then, everything which had been before, was not quite true anymore. But in order to now be who he should always have been, and truly was, they had been forced to spin a complicated web of deceptions. To make it possible for Corvus Black to exist. Which involved a lot of pretence, all for the sake of the truth. How messed up was that?

Of course it would be far easier without Voldemort in the equation. Without snake-face out for his life, and having to preserve Snape's ability to spy, they could have admitted the truth. At least to certain people, because he had no intention to have everyone know about Corvus being Harry. He rather enjoyed not being the Boy-who-lived anymore, thank you very much. However, that revelation was still quite likely to happen at some point.

Only by then it would be further complicated by people feeling hurt from being lied to … though maybe it would also be easier because they'd come to like Corvus Black for himself. Yeah, right. Given the volatile temper of some of the individuals involved … it would likely be messy. Full of drama. There would be shouting, and accusations, and wounded feelings aplenty. Honestly, it was hard to see it end well. But it might. You never knew.

But that was in the future. Not today. Today he would give them Harry one more time. Because today was really more for their sake, truth be told. He would always know them. But they wouldn't know him any longer. He wouldn't lose them so much as they would lose Harry. He would always know to some extent, he was also Harry. Or had been, at least. They wouldn't. They would only see the face of a stranger. A rather suspect stranger. A Slytherin stranger.

His heart would bleed a little when he'd see them turn away from him, because they would not know the truth. If only they weren't mostly such horrible actors. But they were, and so distancing himself from them was the price of getting rid of Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived. However, they'd also be safer this way. With Harry Potter gone, his friends wouldn't be in quite so much danger. He could ease his conscience a little with that. He wasn't only being selfish, for wanting his freedom. Though mostly … he was. This was for him. For the sake of having a family.

And so he would no longer have to hide his personality. Which in all honesty, he had partly been doing up in the Lion's tower. He wouldn't need to live up to people's expectations anymore. Because while they would expect things of Corvus Black, too … he didn't have to be what they wanted. Corvus Black could afford to confound everyone by not quite being what they expected.

As Corvus, he was much freer to be whoever he wanted to be. And that whoever was becoming less Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, by the day. After tomorrow, there might be little left of what others had perceived as his old self.

But that was tomorrow.

Today …

Today, Corvus Black put an expectant smile on Harry Potter's face, grabbed a handful of floo power, and firmly shouted out the Weasley's address. Without the clouds, because Harry Potter was horrible at floo travel. Time to fall on his face one last time.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Harry!"

"Yeah, he's here!"

"We've missed you, Harrikins ..."

"Life is not the same without our favourite Potter!"

"Gred, he's the _only_ Potter."

"He can still be our favourite one, Forge."

"We'd almost given up hope they'd let you out this summer, mate!"

Willing hands helped him to his feet, and Harry smiled back into their happy, eager faces.

"Hey guys, but you know, you just saw me at my birthday party," he pointed out, dusting off his trousers.

Inside, Corvus cringed a bit. Because falling over when flooing was _embarrassing_. As for the state of his clothes … somehow it had become mildly irritating to wear things which were so shabby. Irrationally, he even seemed to miss the blasted corset. It was … supportive. And he actually had to remind himself to slouch more today. As for being called a _Potter_ … it was kind of hard not to react to that. But he would manage. He had managed to deal with the Order, surely he could do the same with his friends?

"But that was _ages_ ago. And now the summer's almost over," Ron whined, slinging a companionable arm over Harry's shoulders and dragging him towards the door. "Common, let's get to the pitch. At least the weather is top today."

"It has been a very nice summer so far," Hermione agreed, falling into place on his other side. "Shame you had to spend it all locked up in that place, Harry."

"Well, there's the courtyard garden," he reminded her. "I do get to go outside, you know. Been fixing it up a bit, in fact."

There had also been the marvellous week in Spain, where he'd certainly gotten plenty of lovely weather. But he couldn't tell them about the best time he'd ever had … with Snape, no less. Ron would probably have an apoplexy at hearing that little detail.

"Since when do you do gardening ..."

"Without being forced to?"

"Actually I quite _like_ gardening, _when_ I'm not forced to," Harry told the twins with an uncomfortable smile.

Corvus did indeed really like gardening. With Winky to tend it while he was away, his little patch of paradise would never get into such a badly neglected state again. But he hated to be reminded of the past endless, enforced toil for the sake of Petunia's prized garden.

"At least you didn't have to spend a lot of time with _them_ this summer," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah … though dunno if Grimmauld Place was that much better," he told her with a slightly dramatic shiver.

After all, it used to be a nasty place for Harry. Full of reminders of Sirius' death and the remains of far too much Dark magic. Before Corvus unexpectedly found a home there.

"But you're living with Remus now. He must be a lot better than your relatives?"

"Oh yes," he agreed heartily, smiling fondly. "We do get along great. Tonks has also been around a lot, recently. She's loads of fun, too"

"At least if they had to give you another sitter, she's someone fun," Ginny said with a slightly strained smile.

Huh. What was that about? She'd gotten over her crush by now, surely? Because Ginny had sounded slightly jealous to his ears. Of _Tonks_, of all people? But then, the others likely all saw her as the fun-loving, cute, quite young Auror. Not his _cousin_ Dora. Who he liked a lot, only certainly not that way. The house of Black already had far too much inbreeding, thank you very much. It could do with some fresh blood, like that of a certain lonely werewolf, for example. He smiled inwardly at the thought, which would without doubt set most of his ancestors to rotating in their graves.

But outwards he simply shrugged, shaking off Ron's arm in the process. "Not so much a baby-sitter but another trainer, actually. And if she's watching anyone, I think it's more the new guy."

"Oh, tell us all about him ..."

"Mum's been really unhappy about him being there with you ..."

"She keeps complaining how arrogant and foreign he is ..."

"And how rotten it is they are letting a stranger take your inheritance ..."

"She said a lot of things after the last Order meeting ..."

"When she didn't realise we were listening."

The twins exchanged a very self-satisfied smirk, before turning their expectant gazes on him.

"So spill, oh Harrikins!"

"Uhm. What exactly did you want to know?" he hedged, while they all continued to trudge in the direction of the field which served the Weasleys as a Quidditch pitch.

"What's he really like?"

"He's not too bad. Imagine a much friendlier version of Malfoy with gracious manners, who looks a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange. He's even got these wild curls just like her."

"Ugh. That was a picture I didn't need," Ron complained, hitting him on the arm. "Thanks loads, mate."

"Well, they are cousins. Him and Malfoy, I mean. And the guy's definitely been raised by pure-bloods, and someone who must be pretty well off, too. He's all stiff and manners, and well, kind of stand-offish like most of the Slytherins. Plus he's got this really fancy wardrobe like you wouldn't believe," he added with an exasperated shake of his head.

Ginny giggled, which for some reason rubbed him the wrong way. He'd been sure she was over her crush … but something about the way she kept walking close and throwing him looks gave him a different message. Though maybe it was Inez' memories which finally allowed him to interpret the signs he'd been to dim to see until now? Or simply too inexperienced. He would have to see how she reacted to the news that Harry wasn't going to come back to Hogwarts ...

"Sounds like a right ponce to me," Ron judged, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe he needs some help ..."

"To unwind ..."

"And become less of a ponce?" the twins chorused, and their predatory smiles were a bit worrisome. On the other hand, if he managed to handle their pranks … he'd probably win a lot of respect points. It shouldn't be too hard, since he had the advantage of prior knowledge of their ways.

"Still, you reckon he's all right? That's what you wrote at least?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly concerned.

"Yeah. I think he should be okay. Probably a lot of work to actually get close to, but he's friendly enough. He also seems to see me as family. Did you realise there was actually a Black who married a Potter?"

"Dorea Potter, wasn't it? She might even have been your grandmother."

"No, I think she would have been my great-grandmother, or perhaps a great-aunt," he said thoughtfully. "Dunno why I've never properly checked the connection out, though."

"Yeah, it still means you were related to Sirius … and Malfoy."

"Lovely," he deadpanned. But of course he was related to the ferret. Rather closely, too. "Just what I needed."

"You know, what with Sirius in Azkaban, this might have made the Malfoys some of your closest wizarding relatives ..." Hermione speculated with a frown.

"Huh. Maybe that was another reason why Dumbledore sent me to the Dursleys?"

"Given how Mr. Malfoy used to have the Ministry in his pockets … "

"They might have been the better choice," he finished for her. "Especially, if he thought my aunt would actually consider me as _family_," he concluded bitterly.

"Yes," she agreed, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Yeah well," he told her with a shrug. "I survived. It's fine."

All the better he didn't have to consider Petunia his relative anymore. Somehow it was easier to forget about the neglect when it wasn't at the hand of actual family. Even though everybody thought they were, of course. Still … somehow it didn't feel as bad. And come tomorrow, it should be even more distant. He was really looking forward to that.

"Do you think you'll have to go back there next summer?"

"Uhm. Dunno," he said, shaking his head. He would never have to go back there. Never. Never ever. "Guess I'll see then. Anyway, Corvus seems okay enough. He's also pretty cool as a wizard, I can tell you. Really advanced in Defence. He gives me a run for my money."

"Really?" Ron said, pulling on his gloves. They had finally reached the field, and the twins had detoured to the shed where they kept the Quidditch gear. "He's that good?"

"Oh, yeah. But I think he's been tutored privately for like ages. That would give anyone an edge."

"Hmm. What house do you reckon he'll go to?"

"Uh … I honestly can't see him in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. The guy's much to cautious and withdrawn for either. He's got a lot of books, and really appears to enjoy the lessons, so maybe Ravenclaw."

"But most likely Slytherin, is what you aren't saying?" Hermione asked with a sidelong look at him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I suppose he'd fit there pretty well. But ..." he added, seeing Ron's immediate negative reaction.

"A snake, mate, you can't trust a slimy snake."

"First off … he hasn't been sorted there … yet. He might not, after all. And I think what none of you are getting, not having met him … is that the guy is really … different. He's got some rather strange ideas at times. If he ends up in Slytherin, he'll do so because he's careful, and distrustful, and probably cunning and all that. But not because everyone he's grown up with has been one. At times he is very foreign. He mostly behaves like a pure-blood, and at the same time he's _nothing_ like those stuck-up gits in Slytherin."

"Oh? How so?"

"For one thing what he appears to value in people is talent and ability_, _rather than ancestry. He doesn't seem to care I'm a half-blood. Or that Remus is a werewolf, for that matter. He treats me as someone who's sort of family, and otherwise he seems pleased he's got someone there to measure himself against. If he looks down on anything, I suppose it's probably something like stupidity. Or prejudice. He got fairly upset about a lot of the Order, though he didn't show it much. But you could tell he hated the way they met him."

The others, who looked to be hanging on his words, exchanged clearly uneasy glances.

"So yeah, he is kind of Slytherin in his behaviour, but not in his views. If that makes sense. And he is … charming, I guess. He's got Mrs. Black eating out of his hands, if you can imagine that. All simply with a smile and being polite. At the same time he doesn't come across as a doormat, either. I wouldn't want to be on his bad side."

"Well," Hermione said after a few moments of slightly stunned silence. "You seem to have developed a lot of insight into him. Not another obsession like Malfoy, I hope?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows a bit to make the joke apparent.

He gave a short laugh. "No, of course not. He's just someone new. And interesting. But most of all, he looks at me and sees Harry Potter, his distant relative and future school-mate. All that Boy-who-lived crap doesn't mean shit to him. Which is just … very nice, guys. You gotta understand that," he concluded with an imploring gaze.

He watched them exchange some more glances. Of course they understood … and then not at all. You probably couldn't really, unless you'd been in his shoes for a while.

"Anyway," he said, grabbing his broom and giving it a demonstrative shake. "I thought we were going to fly?" he added with a hopeful smile.

Because if he didn't stop himself now, he would end up giving something away. He'd said quite enough. If he told them any more, they would become suspicious. Or worse, think he had a crush on Corvus. And _that_ thought was beyond weird.

"Of course, mate," Ron agreed instantly, picking up his own broom. "Here we are, with your first opportunity since like forever to fly and escape the house, and we make you talk about that prat instead. Common, let's get up there!"

"Have a good game then, guys. Oh, and since you mentioned Defence … you said you maybe wanted to have the DA again this year?" Hermione asked quietly, shaking out a blanket in the shade of the old oak-tree next to the shed.

"Yeah … though ..." he made himself sound hesitant.

"What's the matter?" she asked, instantly concerned.

"Nothing. It's fine," he muttered. "Look, we'll talk later. But right now I could do with some flying. Been too long, after this year," he added with a painful smile.

"Oh. Of course," she commiserated. "What with Umbridge and the ban ..."

"Yeah. So … later ..." he told her with a smile, getting ready to kick off on his broom. His lovely broom, which would go to Hogwarts with Dora. And then gather dust later. Because Corvus Black, while he might go flying now and then, couldn't exactly use Harry Potter's Firebolt. Not without lots of awkward questions, at least.

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oOoOoOoOo

The Quidditch was a lot of fun. Provided he didn't think about the fact he wouldn't be playing any more in the foreseeable future. Corvus Black simply didn't play Quidditch. Though he would have to see about at least getting in some flying occasionally. But he certainly didn't have to fake his enjoyment of flying, and otherwise he just smiled a lot at everyone, if slightly wistfully at times, and listened to them talking. And nobody gave any indication that his behaviour was off, so … good enough.

Around midday, Mrs. Weasley called them in for a lunch consisting of a small mountain of sandwiches and chilled bottles of Butterbeer. It was perfectly lovely, though he could have done without the excessive attention she lavished on Harry.

Yes, she liked Harry. That was all right. But she wasn't really his mother. There was no reason for her to get all concerned and worked up about Corvus on his behalf. Mr. Weasley wasn't much help either, with his retreating into uncomfortable silences when his wife attempted to gain his assistance in her periodic rants about Corvus.

About how the poor, dear Harry was being kept all locked up in that dreadful house, with Bellatrix' son no less. Though at least Remus seemed to be feeding him, even if he had to endure Corvus being there in the house with them, taking away the attention from Harry, who was so much more deserving of it. She obviously didn't approve that Remus liked Corvus. And even if that stuck-up boy wasn't going to be a Death Eater, it still wasn't right he should get Sirius' stuff, when Harry was his real heir.

Inside, Corvus wanted to strangle her for being all wrong about him, and just not getting the message. Seriously, had the woman not listened to anything she'd been told at the Order meeting? It was an effort not to give her his best mocking smile, or worse, his father's sneer when she blathered on and on, apparently not realising he was hardly answering her. He badly wanted to tell her a truth or two, and tear her self-righteous attitude down. Instead he had to smile and nod and look apologetic, which unfortunately did nothing to stop her.

In the end he simply told her Corvus was now Lord Black according to Gringotts, and it was too late to do anything about it. And that he really didn't mind. Which finally ended her rant, but not the looks she kept throwing him.

Nor was it any better to be taken aside by Mr. Weasley for an earnest inquiry about how he was dealing with Sirius' loss and whether there was anything at all he could do to help. Harry gave his friend's father a sad smile and told him it was fine, really.

It was not hard to pretend afterwards that the adults had reminded him of unpleasant things, and tipped him over into a bad mood. So he stared morosely into space while the others chatted around him, giving increasingly short answers and finally retreating into sullen silence altogether. He told himself the others were just giving him space. Unfortunately, the truth was they likely were simply used to this behaviour from him.

What a perfectly lovely thought. And he still had to tell them Harry was about to go away. Now that was certain to get the mood down for everyone.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Right. It's _later_," Hermione said, shuffling over to sit next to him and poking him in the side.

"Later?" he replied, pretending to give her a baffled look.

"Later, as in time to talk about the DA," she clarified, poking him again.

"Ah. Yeah. About that ..."

"Well, do you want to start it up again or not?" she asked, sounding exasperated.

"Oh, I do. But ..."

"Hey, what's the matter Harrikins?"

"Why do you suddenly look like you want to cry?"

"It's like this," he began, swallowing hard. He didn't have to pretend being nervous. He really wasn't looking forward to the next bit. But this was the perfect opening for telling them about his upcoming disappearance. "You see, I'm afraid ... that I'm not coming back this year."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked slowly, looking puzzled.

"I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

"What? Why not?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. But … it's been steadily getting worse, ever since the … possession. And Dumbledore thinks … distance will help. So I will be going away soon. Probably before the end of summer even."

"But … he can't force you, can he? If you don't want to go, mate?"

"He can," Harry said simply, with a dispirited shrug. "But for once I believe he's actually right. I … guys … I need to get away. I've got trouble getting a good night's sleep even. It's driving me up the walls," he continued, carding a hand through his hair in agitation.

"Isn't there anything else he can do?" Hermione asked in obvious dismay. "I mean, didn't Occlumency help at all?"

He gave a humourless laugh. "The Occlumency I never properly learned, you mean? The one I still can't get the hang of, even with Snape and Remus on my case all the time? Anyway, that's another reason for going away. Dumbledore's got some other teacher lined up where I'm going, who he hopes will work out better. And well, distance should help. Hopefully," he concluded, giving them all a sad, hopeless smile.

So sad, how much he had to lie to them. So sad, how good he'd apparently become at it. So very sad, how easily they seemed to be buying it.

Of course he didn't normally lie to them. But he had kept the whole truth from them often enough. The Dursleys being the biggest point in case. So either he had turned into the consummate actor, or they were just so blindly trusting and lacking in suspicion. Now he couldn't fault them for not being Moody-level of distrustful, but surely they had to suspect _something_ at least? Not that it wasn't convenient they didn't … but still?

Yet their faces, ranging from shocked, to sad, to … disappointed, in Ginny's case, told a different story.

"Anyway, so you see why I can't exactly start the DA up again … but I would still like it to continue, guys."

"Yes, but without you … I mean, we can't. Not without you!" Hermione protested, sounding utterly dismayed.

"Well, that's the other thing actually. You see, everybody must think I'm at Hogwarts for a while."

"Why, mate?"

"So old snake-face believes I'm still there, of course. So he doesn't try to track me as soon as I'm gone. And for that to work ... Tonks will take my place. And you will have to help her fool everyone."

"Oh. You mean, she'll pretend to be you? I guess … we can help her with that?"

They all looked very uncertain.

"I'm sure you can. I mean, she'll look and sound just like me. Really, she's been practising, and it's scary at times how much she is like me. If I didn't obviously know which one I was, I would have trouble telling us apart. It's like having a twin," he joked, eyeing the twins suggestively.

"So that's the real reason why she's been over at Grimmauld so much then?" Ginny suddenly put in. "To learn how to act like you?"

He nodded at her, taking note of her conflicted expression. "Exactly," he admitted softly. "She's been working hard on this. Don't mess it up for her, guys. You can tell Neville and Luna, but don't say anything to the others. You lot are the only ones who know me well enough to spot her, I think. We really need to keep this totally under wraps, if possible."

"This is all a bit much," Hermione said, still appearing quite shell-shocked. "Not what I expected to hear. I mean, I can't imagine Hogwarts without you!"

"Hermione. You'll survive. All of you. But this is already hard enough to deal with, without having to go to classes on top of it. I don't think I could make it long before I … snapped, or something."

"Oh, Harry," she almost wailed, flinging herself at him and hugging him. He patted her back awkwardly.

Ron looked upset, but also slightly jealous. And so did Ginny, at seeing Hermione wrapped around him.

Oh dear. So … definitely still crushing. Or something. Yet to him, she was just Ron's sister. And a good friend, of course. But not someone he wanted to go out with. Because frankly, if he went out with someone, he would like to be certain it was someone interested in him, and not _Harry Potter, _the hero. With Ginny, he'd probably never be able to tell for sure if she'd gotten over her old infatuation and hero worship.

Honestly, it would probably be better for Ginny as well, if Harry Potter was gone. Hopefully then she could finally move on. As for Ron … if he was seriously jealous of his best mate, who had never made any move on Hermione in all those years they'd been friends … then he had rather a lot of growing up left to do.

Maybe it would be better for him, too, to have Harry gone. It was sad but true, that Ron had always felt … overshadowed by _Harry Potter_. And his stupid, unwanted fame. A concept the red-head had never quite been able to grasp. He'd also better be prepared for Ron to be jealous and envious of Corvus. For being far too good looking, and rich, and apparently rather talented, too.

Such fun that would be.

He had to wonder though, why he'd never noticed these things before. Perhaps he'd simply been too wrapped up in his own moods and emotions? Or maybe he had gotten more perceptive? It could even be due to Inez' memories again, and the insights that came along with them. Perhaps it was all three. But he certainly seemed much better at reading the others. And manipulating them, of course. He still felt seriously conflicted about that part of it.

"Anyway, you'll have to work with Tonks. You just need to treat her like she was me, and keep her from making any big mistakes. But she's very good, so it should be fine. I have every confidence in you all. And it's only for a few weeks," he explained, finally managing to shift Hermione back to his side.

"I can't get my head around you not being there, mate. That's just … wrong!" Ron exclaimed. "But … wait. This means there'll be a _girl_ in our dorm!"

His expression turned horrified.

Harry had to laugh at seeing his friend's face. "You'll survive. But at least _you_ will know," he pointed out with a grin. "And poor Tonks will have to act like a guy herself!"

"Yeah, and just imagine your other dorm-mates ..."

"When they find out later how they behaved in front of a _female_ ..."

"Their faces should be worthy of a Patronus-memory!"

That thought had everybody laughing. Afterwards, the atmosphere felt more relaxed again.

"See, Tonks has already agreed to help you lot with getting the DA started … and I'm sure you'll be able to keep it running after she's gone. I hope you'll to do this for me, guys," he told them earnestly. "We need your help to make this work."

"We'll do it," Hermione promised fervently. Apparently the hopeful smile worked on her as well. "But we are really going to miss you!"

"And I'll miss you all, too. But you can still write to me. In fact, I expect to hear from you regularly!"

"Of course we will write! But … do you think you'll be able to come back once you've properly learned Occlumency?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Oh, I hope so. I really hope so," he said softly, letting his eyes roam over their smiling faces.

Maybe today was the last time he'd see them smile at him. Because Harry Potter was not going to come back. Not ever. But maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be able to get them to like Corvus Black as well. Perhaps they'd be friends … again. Perhaps they would forgive him. If not … then this was good-bye forever. He would grieve for losing them. But not enough to keep living a lie, now he knew it was a lie. Especially not when he hated such a lot of things about Harry Potter's life. He just wished he could tell them the truth. If only they weren't such horrible actors …

But they were. And so he bravely smiled back at them, and only cried a little bit inside.

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oOoOoOoOo

He did not pay his surroundings much attention as he stepped out of the fireplace at home, this time without any trouble to keep his balance. On this end, there was no-one to question why Harry was suddenly all graceful. Harry …

He paused, and then flicked his wand into his hand to almost viciously tear down the glamour he'd worn all day. No more Harry. Tomorrow he would be buried for good. There would be no more pretending. It had really not been enjoyable today. He'd rather be Corvus, and get bad reactions, than Harry, and have to fake his reactions. Especially since all _Harry_ seemed to do these days was lie and deceive and pretend. But what could you expect of someone who didn't quite exist anymore?

He thought he also finally understood the irritation his father usually displayed towards Gryffindors. They could be so … annoying. Nosy. Loud. Tactless. Brash. Impulsive. Slytherin calculation might appear cold by comparison, but … he'd come to appreciate it. Just as he had started to prefer people who were more reserved and controlled. And switched on their brains before talking. All of which would probably make Remus almost more a Slytherin than a Gryffindor, he realised with a chuckle.

But then, a werewolf could not afford to lose control. He had to be on top of the situation, because he was always in potentially hostile territory. He also knew all about being met with prejudice and dislike … exactly like the Slytherins. It was hardly surprising Remus managed to get along so easily with Snape these days. Especially now that Harry Potter, formerly a bone of contention, had turned into Corvus Black, who was a shared interest.

A faint noise suddenly made him snap his head up, and look around for the source. But he didn't have time to see anything, before everything went dark.

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: There you go. Evil cliffhanger. I wonder how many people will guess what is happening. Probably most, it should be obvious. Right? Though I hope it isn't too obvious, but it probably is. Anyway … look, there's a monkey!

*attempts to slink away before she gets lynched by irate readers.

However, I guess I really should not take a month to write the next update. Unfortunately, my muse seems to have taken the horrible semi-permanent heat-wave we had this summer as an excuse to go on holiday. I hope she'll return soon. Or at least send me a postcard! Hopefully my brain will function better now that the average temperature of my flat is no longer almost thirty degree Celsius. I mean, I really like summer, but there are limits! And this summer was a definite record-breaker.

I hadn't intended for Phineas to know about Corvus being Harry, or at least not yet. However, once they started talking the conversation simply drifted in that direction. After all, Phineas knew Severus is Corvus' father, and that the Spanish back-story is a ruse, so he definitely is in a position to figure it out. Especially since he is able to observe the comings and goings in the house, and should realise the 'Harry' who's been around was actually Dora. Also he is supposedly rather sharp … so … well. You read it yourself. And with the full knowledge of Corvus' real background, he will be able to help him better.

As always, many thanks for the reviews! There seemed to be a bit of a chorus of 'we hope Draco can be saved'. Well, he even made it in canon, so I have no real reason to let him die horribly here. It is likely more a question of how much of an ordeal his life will be before it gets better. I do have plans for Bellatrix, so I cannot really say anything regarding her. But frankly, she is not a nice character. She may have had help in becoming so twisted and evil, but now she is. Second chances are nice and Dumbledorish, but unfortunately not always practical or desirable.

In any case, what with the evil cliffhanger and all, I will do my best to update soon. I really will try very hard. So if anyone sees my muse, tell her the summer holiday is over and it's time to get home and back to work!


	27. Seeing is Believing

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

It was still dark.

This appeared to be because of a blindfold. And he couldn't move, so he was either tied up or under some kind of petrification spell. He attempted to flex his shoulders, and found he could not move them at all. Petrification spell it was then. He could hear though, and what he mostly heard was his own erratic breathing. He tried to quiet it, in order to hear if someone else was in the room with him.

The room.

Somehow, he was pretty sure he was still at Grimmauld Place. It simply _felt_ like it. Which meant he had not been abducted. Possibly.

That left … an ambush. So it might be his dear teachers. Just because Remus had taken off with Dora, didn't mean they hadn't returned in his absence and decided to test him on his vigilance. Or lack thereof. It could also be his father, who had certainly promised ambushes. In either case he was definitely in for a lecture. And disappointed looks. He really hated those.

However, it could equally well be someone with more sinister goals. Someone from the Order, who wasn't convinced of his allegiance or intentions. And who'd seen him come in looking like _Harry_, and then ditch the glamour. Unfortunately, that seemed the more likely hypothesis.

Right. Better assume it was an unfriendly person, though possibly not too badly so since he hadn't been moved, or for that matter, harmed. Provided his impression he was still in the house was actually correct. In any case, he was blindfolded, petrified and quite likely lacking his wand. And while he was starting to get somewhere with silent casting, he'd never even tried wand-less spells. Not exactly a very promising situation. No matter who it was.

"I know you are awake."

Curses. Damnation. Maldiciónes. Maldito, dichoso, molesto, enojoso. E embarazoso y mortificante. Spanish was a great language for descriptive adjectives, even with his limited range of vocabulary. Because _that_ voice was bloody easy to recognise. Moody. Damned, cursed, annoying, bloody suspicious Moody. Who would be little inclined to believe anything he said, and who'd already made it clear he thought the worst of Corvus.

And who must have seen him ditch the Harry glamour.

"Unfortunately."

Well, at least he could speak.

"Would you prefer to be unconscious?"

"I would prefer for this to be merely a bad dream."

"Ah. I can do a pretty damn good bad dream impression, if you'd prefer, _imposter_."

Moody could also sound pretty threatening. That _imposter_ had been growled most impressively. And here he was, petrified and at the man's mercy … not the best starting position. The only thing he had to fight with was words. Time to play innocent and dumb, to hopefully buy some time? After all, Remus should return at some point ...

"Imposter?"

"Don't think you can play silly buggers with me. I can tell you recognised my voice … and I saw you come in."

"Why were you here in the first place?"

"Oh, no. I'm the one asking the questions! Who are you really, boy? Why did you pretend to be Potter?"

Right. Why did he pretend to be Potter again? Possibly because he _was_ Potter? The question was how to explain that to Moody without having to explain everything, though. And the real challenge, to make the man believe him, too. Which kind of only left one possible way out ...

"You need to call Professor Dumbledore."

"No. No more delays. I want answers!"

"Would you listen to them? Believe them? Call the headmaster, please."

"No, boy. You will give me answers now," Moody said with obvious malice, and Corvus could hear clinking sounds, like the man was sorting through potion vials.

It seemed Moody was not at home for a call from Mr. Reasonable tonight. He felt as frozen inside as the rest of his body, desperately whacking his brain for a solution. How could he get out of this predicament at the hand of the former Auror? Who surely knew every trick in the book … but since he wanted to make Corvus talk, had _not_ silenced him … it was worth a try, anyway. At least this way _someone_ would know about his situation.

"Winky!"

"What the ..."

"Yes, Master Black, sir?"

"Get Dumbledore here now!" he shouted at her. "Right now!"

He heard Moody swear in frustration, as the house-elf immediately popped away again. The man was bound to be unhappy about this, but with the headmaster's arrival hopefully imminent … he was limited in what he could do. Well, in theory, at least.

"How dare you, boy," he growled, sounding both furious and frustrated.

"You're the one who attacked me! I don't trust you either. How can I even be sure you are Moody?" Corvus asked the other man, his mind working overtime to come up with something useful.

"I'm not that easy to counterfeit!"

"Says the man who spent most of a year stuck in his own trunk," he pointed out spitefully. "While a Death Eater rather successfully pretended to be you?"

"How do you know about that," the old wizard hissed, and something which felt like a wand-tip was suddenly digging painfully into Corvus' neck. "Who told you that?"

Oops. That might have been a mistake. Because that was indeed a detail Corvus Black, freshly arrived from Spain, was highly unlikely to have been told. One of Crouch's confidants might know, though, and since those were all Death Eaters … he'd just made the situation worse, hadn't he? But really, at this point Moody would never give up anyway unless he was told the truth. Perhaps he should simply tell the old bastard. He might be helpful if he knew, and he could be trusted to keep a secret as well. And it was him lying here being threatened. Maybe it was time to put that vaunted Slytherin self-preservation into practice.

"Because I was bloody there when they found you! Because I actually am Harry Potter. Or at least … I used to be."

This just made the wand dig in harder, however.

"You'll have to come up with something better, imposter. Remember I've seen you cast a Patronus! I know Harry's is different."

"Oh for … would I ask for _Dumbledore_ if I was on the other side? And the Patronus changed recently, all right?"

"Likely story. Not. Therefore ..."

He heard the clinking sounds again. And one of the things Aurors apparently learned was how to apply Veritaserum to an uncooperative person. Despite his best efforts, he could not fight off the dreamlike lassitude which come over him. He felt his facial muscles relax and go slack as the tension drained out of him under the influence of the truth serum. A few moments later Moody gave a satisfied grunt.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Well, bugger me sideways … "

.

oOoOoOoOo

That wasn't the end to the questions, of course. He was a bit stymied by the one after his birthday, as he felt no impulse to answer it at all. The general trance-like state of the Veritaserum made it hard to think and decide on what to answer, though. Something he'd have to remember for Tuesday, if he wanted to give a believable performance. However, possibly since he'd already decided to tell Moody, his mind seemed to tend towards telling the truth after only a slight delay. And the 'are you a Death Eater?' question which followed was frankly laughable anyway.

But then the bastard had to ask after his parents.

Which led to another strange effect. Because it looked like a part of him continued to think of the Potters as his parents after all. Which apparently conflicted with the impulse to name his real parents. As a result he could somehow not give either name, and became agitated despite the calming effect of the potion. At which point Moody finally took mercy on him and gave him the antidote.

He also cancelled the petrification, removed the blind-fold, and helped Corvus up from the floor of the sitting room. He promptly called Winky back, who was almost frantic by now as she hadn't managed to find the headmaster. Apparently he was at the Ministry, and as she was no longer working for Hogwarts, she couldn't find him as easily. Talk about his usual bad timing. Corvus asked her for some tea instead, and kindly told her it was all right. If he knew house-elves, she was probably scrubbing something now in order to calm her nerves.

Meanwhile Moody sent Dumbledore a Patronus message to come by as soon as he could. Not that the ex-Auror was going to wait for his explanation until the headmaster arrived ...

"I still want some answers, though. Or a lot of them, really."

Corvus shrugged tiredly. The day with all its drama was starting to catch up with him. "Sure. Dumbledore will probably ask an oath of you, though ..."

The old wizard laughed harshly. "Wouldn't be the first one, laddie. Don't worry, I'll stick around until this is sorted out."

"Right. Well. It's quite simple, and complicated at the same time. When I turned sixteen … whatever glamours Lily Potter spelled on me as a baby failed. As it happens, she was only my foster mother. My real mother actually is Bellatrix. Which believe me, came as quite the shock. But that's likely the reason I couldn't give any name under the Veritaserum. Because well, I guess I still think of the Potters as my parents to some extent, and I have a hard time coming to terms with my real mother ..."

"Hmpf. Never seen something quite like that, I must admit. But I guess it's a pretty unusual circumstance, ain't it? Anyway, what was Albus thinking? Why did he decide to go through with such a high-risk rigmarole, instead of just slapping those glamours back on you, boy?"

"I believe you are forgetting something, sir."

"What?" Moody barked.

"That unless I agreed, the glamours would not have worked. I am _sixteen_ now," Corvus reminded him with that slightly mocking smile he was becoming way too familiar with. "So it was my decision to make. And unless you have lived your whole life as an unwanted orphan, I don't think you can understand how badly one can want a parent."

"You want _Bellatrix_? Are you mad, boy?"

"Her? Hardly. But you see, we do actually know who my father is, sir."

"That's not likely to be any better, is it?" Moody growled. "Unless … my goodness. It's _Snape_, isn't it? It is! Now that's priceless … Severus Snape knocking up Bellatrix Lestrange! But … haven't you always hated the bastard?"

"I hated how he treated Harry Potter," Corvus corrected him carefully. "I quite like the way he has come to treat his son, though."

"You can't be serious? You are. But … he's … how can you want someone like _him_ as a father?"

"He's not so bad, really. He is actually very supportive and helpful. He can even be quite funny at times, at least once you stop taking his constant sarcasm as attacks. And he understands me pretty well, now that he's stopped seeing James Potter when he looks at me."

"That makes such a big difference?"

"Surprisingly, yes. He just … reads me totally differently now. I suppose he also feels rather guilty about the past. And well, when you think about it, he's been as lonely as me. Anyway, he asked me to give him a chance … and so far it's working out pretty well. Mostly because he wants me … for myself. Not as the Saviour, or the Boy-who-lived, or because I was 'James' son'. He wants me simply because I'm his son. Which frankly, is worth a lot of hassle to me."

"Still can't say I'm happy about this. It's all bloody risky!"

Corvus shrugged again. "Probably. Do you think it's riskier than being _Harry Potter_, though?"

Moody stared at him, the false eye giving the impression it was looking right through him. Then again, it probably was.

"Hmpf. You may have a point there."

"Anyway, once I decided on this, we had to find something to explain where I'd been all the time. Which is why we came up with the idea that I'd been raised by strangers in Spain. And thanks to Dora, we'll hopefully be able to cover up Harry's disappearance long enough that no-one will connect Corvus with him."

"You think you'll be convincing enough? This whole things seems quite elaborate and complicated. Mind, I certainly didn't suspect you of being Harry Potter either. I even bought the foreign act, as well," Moody admitted, looking rather chagrined at the thought.

Corvus flashed him a wry smile. "There you go, then."

"You've really changed a lot, laddie."

"Under the circumstances, wouldn't anyone? You can't find out something like this and be entirely unaffected. But many of the changes are deliberate."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I've been busy working out things with Dora. But my new looks and clothes alone should do a lot of the work."

"Oh, very likely. Most people simply don't look beyond appearances and a few obvious tells. Otherwise that bastard Crouch would never have managed to pass as me for so long."

"Indeed. So with some different mannerisms thrown in, and a touch of foreign to garnish it all ..."

"It's still not going to be easy, boy."

"Oh, I know. It will be even harder because I'll have to be sorted into Slytherin this time."

"You _have to_ be sorted there?"

"How many Gryffindor Blacks do you know of? Sirius doesn't really count. I wouldn't exactly be believable there. Or welcome, for that matter, given my mother."

"And how do you think you'll manage in Slytherin? You're a Gryffindor to the bone, lad."

"Shows what you know, sir. Because I'm not. Not really. You see, I only became a Gryffindor because I didn't want to be a _Slytherin_ when I was first sorted. So I asked the hat to put me anywhere but there. Because that house was its first choice. But I'd been told Voldemort was a Slytherin, and that my parents were Gryffindors. Only now of course it turned out they weren't after all. Which means I probably stopped fighting my Slytherin side … which was there all along."

There was a contemplative silence, while Moody stared at him as if he was trying to see the Slytherin inside Corvus. It was broken suddenly when the fire flared green and a purple robed Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace. He looked from one to the other, probably noticing Corvus was still wearing Harry's clothing, as well as his scar. The headmaster's rather dismayed expression indicated he'd worked out what must have happened.

"Hello, Professor. I'm afraid there was a bit of an … incident. Would it be all right if I go get changed while you sort it out?" Corvus asked with his best hopeful smile, waving a vague hand in the direction of a scowling Moody. Why do all your own explaining when you can get someone else to do it for you?

After all, delegating things could work in the other direction, too.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"What were you doing here anyway?"

The old Auror shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Didn't I tell you to leave well alone, Alastor?" Albus asked somewhat sadly. "Did you really not trust me?"

"I wanted to take a good look at the tapestry, all right? I did decide to trust you Albus, that the boy was no danger … but I still wanted to know who his father was! And this house is hardly one of the places where I might attract 'unwelcome interests', after all."

"True enough. So your curiosity got the better of you, and the rest was a case of bad timing?"

"I did go into my profession for a reason, Albus. And it was not just because I wanted to chase around after Dark wizards!" Moody told him angrily.

"Yes, yes of course. I am sorry, old friend," the headmaster said gently. "But what made you attack Corvus?"

"Well, I knew the house would be pretty much empty. Nymphadora had told me she'd be off with Remus somewhere, and Potter was supposed to be at the Weasleys ..."

"So you hoped to corner Corvus by himself, didn't you?"

"Only then I couldn't find him," Moody growled. "Which put up all my warning flags."

"And thus you decided to wait by the floo ..."

"Aye."

Albus sighed and shook his head. "Talk about the boy's infernal luck. That was probably about the only moment you _could_ catch him. After tomorrow you'd never have seen him as Harry again, and he would have been able to lie to you, too."

"Oh? How come?"

"Well, I suppose you heard about the Wizengamot hearing on Tuesday?"

"Aye. I did wonder how you intended to get around _that_. Cause the lad told me his name straight away when I dosed him earlier, and it certainly wasn't Corvus Black ..."

"Which is why tomorrow, Severus is going to bury Harry Potter under a _Fidelius Mentis._"

"Wasn't that some form of Occlumency that went out of practise decades ago because of the side effects? Wouldn't that also require a lot of trust in Snape on Potter's part?"

"_Black_, old friend, you had better get used to the name. But not to worry. The boy has come a very long way in the last two weeks. He has progressed quite amazingly with Occlumency as well. And even further in trusting Severus … who in his turn genuinely wants the boy. While I'll be the first to admit Severus' parental qualities may be somewhat … dubious, he is probably the undisputed winner when it comes to sheer _protectiveness_."

Moody snorted and shook his head. "All right. _That_ one I can actually see. A regular mother-hen, is he?"

"Strangely, no. Severus feels so guilty about his past treatment of Corvus, he actually has a rather hard time to push or punish the boy now. Or strangle him by being the overprotective parent. He does realise the boy is almost grown up … and has been through hell and back. But if there is any danger he can avert … then he will fight tooth and nail for him."

"I have to admit, there could have been far worse possibilities for the lad's father ..."

"You suspected Tom Riddle himself, didn't you?"

"It seemed not unreasonable at the time."

Albus sighed and looked away distractedly. "I suppose you are right. Fortunately for us all, it wasn't the case. As matters stand, this has actually worked out in our favour. Because Severus could not teach Harry Potter Occlumency in half a year. He managed with his son in a couple of weeks."

"More patience?"

"Mostly a matter of trust, I fear. Or lack thereof before. Besides false preconceptions, hate for a dead man, and other bad feelings getting in the way."

"Aye. How you ever thought that could possibly work out, I sure don't know. Even a blind man could see how much at loggerheads those two used to be."

"I fear many of my decisions regarding Harry did not work out as well as I had hoped. Which is another reason I left this one entirely up to him. I do not believe his trust could have survived another bad decision on my part."

"Hmpf. I wondered why you left it up to him, sixteen or not. Still, I must admit the boy seems to be taking to that role like a duck to water. He always appeared to live so much on the surface, I guess it was easy to overlook his deeper side."

"He also never let people close enough to see it. Another of my failings, that his trust is so hard-earned. But he looks to be blossoming remarkably well now. Finding a family and proper support has done him a world of good."

"High time, too! Oh, and another thing, you old conniver. Seriously, 'unrelated to my current pet-peeve', my ass!"

Albus merely looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes. "But that's how you keep a secret, my friend."

"By lying?"

"Unfortunately."

"So is his connection to You-know-who really getting worse?"

"Fortunately … no. In fact, his much improved Occlumency seems to help a great deal, and Voldemort appears to be lying low on that front anyway. But it made for a most convenient excuse to explain his upcoming departure. Because of course the real reason Nymphadora is going to impersonate him is not to hide that he is no longer there, but that he is in fact there as someone else."

"Obviously. Well, aside from taking a hand with _Mr_. _Black's_ training … was there anything else I could help you with?"

"Oh, I am sure something will come up, Alastor."

"Doesn't it always?"

Albus sighed and looked pensive. "Given the boy's very strange luck … I would almost be surprised if it didn't."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Your scar is still visible."

Corvus shrugged, wanting nothing more than to head back upstairs and go to bed. He certainly didn't want to talk with a nosy old bastard who'd tied him up and fed him Veritaserum. However, it was probably better to talk with the man now and answered his remaining questions, than for him to keep digging around later.

"They will have to put a new glamour over it. They found a way to mostly duplicate what … Lily Potter did when I was a baby."

"And that was a bloody good glamour, lad! I never even suspected what was hidden underneath. So how is it done?"

"You will have to ask Remus or Dumbledore for details. Something about casting it in triplicate simultaneously, I believe, and kind of twisting it together. Or something like that. And Lily seems to have tied it to their magic signatures somehow."

"Which is why you looked so much like James Potter?"

"Apparently. By the way, I'd like my wand back, please."

Which was the main reason he'd come back down, after all. It was handed over, somewhat grudgingly. After Moody inspected it closely, of course.

"You used to have a different one, didn't you?"

"I still do," he admitted with another shrug. "But Dora's going to have to use that one for the next few weeks, and well, someone might notice if I continued with my old one. We got this one last week in Madrid."

"What's it made of?"

"Cedar wood, with a core of Phoenix feather and Demiguise hair."

"You really are turning into a Slytherin, aren't you?"

"You can tell that from my _wand_, sir?"

"Demiguise hair ain't very Gryffindor now, is it?"

"I guess not, at that," Corvus said, carefully fitting the wand back into his wrist-sheet.

When he looked back up at the Auror, he noticed the rather satisfied gleam in his eye. "So you did take my advice after all," he was told gruffly.

"With some delay, but I suppose so."

No need to tell the man it had been _Remus_ who'd insisted on the holder.

"Constant vigilance! A wand you can't get to in a jiffy does you no good at all. Speaking of that … I should not have been able to get the jump on you that easily!"

"Well, sorry. But I was tired, in my own secure home, that supposedly no unfriendly people have access to. And I got ambushed by someone invisible and casting silently. How exactly was I meant to guard against _that_? Not everyone has one of these, you know?" he pointed out rather grouchily, gesturing towards Moody's face with its false eye.

"Hmpf. Excuses, lad, excuses. You should have felt it in the wards, if you are truly a Black. They should answer to you now … and they will tell you someone's there."

"Huh. Good point. If I had any idea how to do feel them, that is. Guess I'll have to ask Phineas."

"Phineas Black? The old headmaster?"

"Yes. Why?"

"So you managed to get him on your side, too?"

"Yeah. He seems to rather like me."

"I suppose he rather would … now. But you know, there are other means to check for someone present! _Homenum revelio_ usually does the trick just as well."

"Do you really check every empty room you enter, sir?"

"When I come through the floo, always."

"Yes well, I'm not sure I can quite reach your level of paranoia."

"If you want to survive in _Slytherin_, you'll have to! You can't afford to be careless for even a moment. Even if you didn't check for intruders, you should at least have kept the glamour up until you were secure in your own room. And you should get used to keeping _that_ under safe wards at all times, for that matter."

Corvus sighed in irritation and gave the man a sour glance. "I know! Unfortunately, I can't learn everything at once. Or always think of every little detail."

This complaint earned him a nasty smile, compounded by the disturbing gleam in the old Auror's remaining eye. "Oh, I don't know. Guess I'll have to see if I can't pound that into your little skull. You may not like it, but you've acquired yourself another trainer, lad!"

"So I am suddenly no longer bad blood? And trustworthy enough? Worth your time and effort?"

At least the bastard had the grace to look very uncomfortable and actually squirm under Corvus' glare.

"Yes, well. Sorry about that. I guess it's not all in the blood after all, lad."

"I really hope so, too. I really do."

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Sorry, this chapter is shorter than usual, and the next one will be as well. But in the end I decided to split it in order to at least get rid of the evil cliff-hanger for now. Because it is rather later than I would have liked as well. What can I say, me and my muse have just been too pathetically apathetic recently. In which case it is simply easier to read stories instead of write them … sigh. I did manage to post a couple of one-shots, but somehow writing this story is much harder. So thank you very much for all the great reviews and people sticking around despite my lackadaisical updating over the last months!

I am also gratified I was not totally obvious regarding the identity of the mysterious ambusher, though many of you guessed correctly. To answer some of the speculations which came up in the reviews: Many of the ideas people brought up are quite likely to happen. Many I frankly have no idea about yet, however. I have the actual plot all worked out, but the interactions between characters frequently have a life of their own. So I really, really need to take that muse of mine in hand and write more again, because I would quite like to find out what happens myself!

*Borrows Amarenima's pitchfork and chases the muse around the house a few times

oOoOoOoOo


	28. Fidelius Mentis

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Good morning, Severus."

"And the same to you, Remus."

"Your son has not come down yet … would you care to join us for breakfast?"

"Only a cup of tee for me, thank you."

The other wizard busied himself with pouring out a cup. Severus meanwhile took a seat, his gaze roving absent-mindedly over the cupboards and counter-tops. Which, amazingly, were in a perfect state. Repaired. Freshly scrubbed. Just the way they should be. The way they should have been all along, if things had not gone so wrong for House Black. The difference a willing house-elf made. And quite possibly a new master, as well.

"You seem somewhat … distracted?"

That constituted delicate probing, for the wolf. He was usually more forthright in voicing his concerns.

"You know perfectly well of our plans for today ..."

"Yes. I know," Remus interrupted, suddenly sounding rather flat and toneless. And just as distracted and tense as Severus himself felt. "I do admit I worry about it. If it will … change him."

Severus sighed, and forced himself to relax a bit. "So do I," he admitted. Which earned him a long, searching look from the wolf. One that silently begged for reassurances.

"Is there any real reason for it, though?"

"Maybe. Perhaps. It is impossible to predict. He will not … _cannot_ … be quite the same afterwards," he explained starkly, with an uncomfortable shrug. "But there is no telling beforehand in what ways he will be affected. Or simply to which extent."

"But I will still remember everything," his son's voice suddenly came from the doorway. "I am not going to forget my past. Or am I?"

He sounded fairly calm, only a very faint tremor indicating he might be feeling apprehensive, too. Both the adults turned to face the teenager in surprise, not having heard him come down the stairs outside.

"No, of course not."

"Then I will still be _me_. I will probably be more … quiet, overall. More careful. Less easily upset. And hopefully have a bit more confidence, too," Corvus added thoughtfully.

"What makes you think that, in particular?" the wolf asked curiously, pulling the chair next to him back from the table in a clear invitation to sit.

"Well, nothing so far has really changed … me. Who I am. Not really. It has just helped me realise things, or given me new perspectives. It has also helped me overcome … my past, to some extent. I expect this will be more of the same. Since it does something to those connections, it might also break, or at least lessen … old conditionings, if you know what I mean?" his son explained as he walked over to take the offered seat.

"You mean … the Dursleys?"

"Those as well, but actually I'm mostly thinking _Gryffindor," _the boy said with an apologetic glance at Lupin while he began to serve himself some breakfast.

"I was never so reckless and hmm … maybe call it confrontational, before I came to Hogwarts. Living up there in the tower … it's like living with a permanent dare. If you want to fit in, you can't _not_ take it, sort of. Especially with a friend like Ron … he was always one of the worst of them. Life is still one big adventure to him. Okay, maybe not so much now after what happened at the Ministry. But that's how it was until now. With how good he is at chess, you'd think he was better at considering the consequences in real life. But he rarely ever did."

"You mean to imply your house is to blame for your behaviour in the last few years?"

The teenager shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. "No. Not exactly. But … you know how people sometimes behave differently when they are around certain others?"

"Indeed."

It actually explained a lot about the almost excessive brashness of the average Gryffindor. But it was not only them, was it? They all did it. Every one of the Hogwarts houses maintained this internal contest of who could be the most studious, the most industrious, the most cunning. And thus young, impressionable minds forced to conform to expectations by peer-pressure, did, in the end, come to embody the stereotypes of their houses.

He had also sometimes wondered, if the individual Marauders and the way they developed would have been the same had they not all banded together. Constantly edging each other on. Reinforcing patterns. Making excuses for their behaviour, and finding ready acceptance for it amongst their little peer-group. However, with other influences … maybe they would have become different people? Or at least, shown different sides of their personality more strongly.

"That's the bad thing about having all these … daring personalities in one place. It's the drawback about the Hogwarts houses generally," Corvus pointed out thoughtfully, his words echoing Severus' own speculations. "I guess it helps in some ways to stick similar people together. But … it also reinforces those qualities. I wonder if it's really such a good idea, in the long run? I mean, it probably keeps us from developing in other directions."

"From the mouth of babes ..."

"I don't think I could have come to that conclusion if I was so very young or innocent," his son interrupted Severus firmly. "In fact, we can probably give the credit for some of my recent insights to someone considerably _older_ than all of us," he admitted with a sigh. "In a way, she gave me so much more than simply memories ..."

"Oh."

The wolf had paled. So had he, probably. That was one ramification he had not considered before agreeing to the memory transfer. They had thought to give the boy more knowledge of Spain and its culture only. Not … whatever this was.

"No, it's a good thing. Really. Very helpful. Especially in understanding _girls_," the boy added with a sly glance at Severus. "But don't worry, I'm still very much _me_. It just gives me a much broader basis to understand things with, if that makes sense. More experiences to draw on. A different outlook. As well as knowledge of a magical society without the … constraints created by something like the houses. Frankly, I'm not sure at all they are a good thing."

"So you want to do away with the house system?" Severus asked sarcastically, his eyebrows rising at the audacious idea. Audacious, but also quite ambitious ...

"Not exactly. That would never work. People are far too set in their ways to accept that. Everybody's used to having the houses. There'd be a huge outcry, and everybody would fight against it. Simply because it's always been that way. But … we need to do something about the excessive _rivalry_. And make it easier to meet the other houses outside of classes, and encourage friendships between them. Don't you see?" the boy asked, and there was a passionate note in his voice. "When we had the DA last year, we wasted far too much time having to overcome the distrust between people from different houses. Which is just … stupid!"

Fortunately, the ambitions his son increasingly demonstrated seemed to also come with the ability to see why something could not be done. As well as the good sense to focus on what might realistically be achieved instead. But Corvus' words also hinted at another reason why he would want something like this.

"You also wish to have a chance to keep your friends, and not be forced to consort only with Slytherins ..."

The boy gave him a raised eyebrow which reminded Severus far too much of himself. "There is that as well, of course. But something can be both personally beneficial _and_ good for everybody in general, you know?"

Now that was a clear challenge. And something he could not deny at all. His own life might have turned out differently, had there not been such a huge chasm between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Between Lily and him. At the same time, the Dark Lord would not have found such a ready recruiting ground in the snake-pit without that divide, either.

He definitely should never forget the boy was both. That he seemed to be slowly turning more and more into a Slytherin … or rather letting that side of himself finally surface … did not change the fact he had been a Gryffindor for five years. That he had, to all outward appearances, fit in quite well there.

Which also meant he brought all the experiences and insights gained from it with him. As well as the doubly foreign influence of those memories he had been gifted by the old Spanish witch. His perspective thus combined that of the outsider and the insider. Or would, once he had actually _lived_ in Slytherin for a while. With Phineas to help him adapt there … his son truly might turn into the neutral rallying-point they badly needed. Someone who could see all sides, and whose character was far more rounded than that of his peers. Someone who would hopefully embody the best of all the influences which had shaped him.

Such potential. Now they only had to make sure he _survived_ to grow into all that potential.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Did someone tell you what happened yesterday with Moody?"

"Yes, indeed," Severus replied with a heavy frown of displeasure, watching his son settle himself more comfortably on the couch. "Albus told me. I believe I shall most definitely be having … words with Mad-eye about it. But you were careless, Corvus," he admonished sharply. "You need to learn from this. Do not expose yourself to risk like that again. What if it had been someone other than Moody? Or he had been unwilling to believe you?"

"I know, I know. Remus has already given me the lecture. _Dora_ has already given me the lecture. Moody himself gave me the bloody lecture right afterwards. Complete with ways how I could have avoided the whole debacle. Which reminds me, I need to talk with Phineas about the house-wards," the boy protested.

"Do so, and soon. And from now on, you will be Corvus around the clock. That should reduce the risk for anybody to catch you out. So it does not happen a_gain_."

"I _know_, Padre."

"Do you now?" Severus asked coldly, ignoring his son's annoyed tone of voice. "I thought you knew better, actually."

The boy cast him a frustrated look and carded his raven curls back in a gesture which probably originated in _Harry's_ attempts to smooth down his nest of unruly hair, and had become modified through encountering the much longer curls instead.

It made him wonder once again how Lily had managed to disguise the child so completely. Because a glamour would normally not affect touch … yet her spell clearly had. For that matter, it had even affected the boy's eyesight, though that had likely been unintentional. Therefore it could not have been a pure glamour only. All the evidence pointed to it having been a cross with human transfiguration. One that evolved as the subject aged, no less, and was bound to the appearance of two other people … James and Lily Potter. It was quite possible she had collaborated with her husband, who had undeniably been talented at transfiguration, much as it galled Severus to admit it.

Whatever it was she had done, it had been brilliant. Innovative. And now, utterly lost. Yet another reason to curse that vile madman for killing her. Not that he really needed another. But it was a reminder that her loss went beyond mere personal sorrow and regret. And speaking of regret …

His son's frustrated expression had morphed into one that was unexpectedly miserable and downcast. For _Corvus_, in any case. It had been a rather more familiar look on _Harry Potter_, he realised with an unpleasant pang of remorse.

"I'm sorry I have disappointed everyone," the boy said in a small voice, staring down at his hands. Which were clenched together in his lap. "And here I thought I was doing well for once."

Severus momentarily closed his eyes at the painful constriction in his chest. Who would have thought he would ever feel horrible about making this particular boy feel bad? But Corvus was right. He had been doing so well, it was all too easy to forget how insecure he yet was.

"Corvus. Son of mine. Come here, please," he said softly, his gentle tone of voice a marked contrast to the coldness of before.

The boy's eyes came up at that, and the spark of hope in them was almost overwhelming. So was the willingness in which he came and let Severus put his arms around him. As well as the grateful way his son accepted the embrace. Had it really been merely a couple of weeks? And curses, but did Albus have to be right yet again? He doubted it was _love_, exactly. A lot of it was probably still guilt. However, it was also far more than that. There was definitely … affection. Severus had to admit that the more he got to know him, the more the boy grew on him.

However, at the moment it was mostly the strong desire to not want to see him hurt in any way. Much less because of his father's words. No matter how necessary it was for him to learn caution. But it should not come at the price of his self-confidence, given how fragile that remained.

"You have not disappointed everyone. You are _not_ a disappointment. Never. But you were undeniably careless. Under normal circumstances, it would have been quite excusable … if your whole situation did not demand the _constant vigilance_ the old goat is always harping on about. Maybe it was even best it happened this way. At least there was no permanent harm done. But I hope you learned your lesson from this. Just remember, please," he almost pleaded, momentarily tightening his arms around his son. "Do not let it happen again. Because I really do not wish to lose you because you were careless, Corvus."

He felt the boy nod against his shoulder.

"Yes, Padre," he said, sounding slightly muffled. But also relieved. "And you are right. I let my emotions get the better of me, because I was upset about the whole day."

"Well, as you are so fond of pointing out, it has only been a couple of weeks," Severus told him, aware of the irony of using the boy's own excuse. "What is done is done. Moody can at least be trusted, and may actually prove helpful. Perhaps, in the long run, it may even turn out to be a good thing. So … no more of this. Learn from it, but then put it away, and do not let it drag you down."

The boy finally made to free himself from the embrace, sitting up straight and meeting Severus' eyes directly. "All right," he said earnestly. "I can't promise to always succeed, but I do promise to always try my best."

"That is all anyone can ask. However, the morning is not getting any younger. We need to get started. Who knows, afterwards you might hopefully be naturally more careful anyway," he added in a rather doubtful tone of voice.

"Well, you know what they say about hope?"

"Which is _exactly_ why you need to learn the value of good planning, son of mine. Blind hope should always remain the very last resort. It is every bit as bad as relying on luck ..."

"I know. I will do better. I have to. I have a really good reason now."

It was said with unexpected fervour. And looking into the dark eyes of his son, so fierce and determined, Severus realised that apparently _protectiveness_ was yet another trait he had managed to pass on.

.

oOoOoOoOo

As he lay back again, making sure he would be in a comfortable position, Corvus already started to regulate his breathing without even thinking about it. And preparing himself to listen to his father's hypnotic voice, he once again went over his own part in what they were about to do.

The challenge was, of course, that they were not dealing with just single memories. Instead it was uncounted numbers of them. Even something as apparently simple like a birth-date was part of so many of them, so interconnected with everything, it seemed impossible to do. And yet, it could be done.

Because bundling memories worked a lot like fishing. Obviously not the kind where one cast out a single line, and attempted to catch a single fish. Rather it was like fishing with a net. A huge drag-net which could catch whole schools of them in one go. Because exactly like a swarm of fish, while each memory remained individual, they tended to 'move' in groups. Thinking about a key word brought a multitude of associated ones all rising up, allowing them to be caught in the mental equivalent of a net.

They had practised this a lot on Saturday, and he had become reasonably adept at the technique. So today he would call forth the memories, bring them all together into a massive bunch, connected through the key-term they were aiming for, and Snape would then break that connection. Disassociate it. Or something. It was rather hard to describe what exactly happened, since the connection was not actually removed. Just severely weakened. Changed. Or something like that anyway.

But afterwards, thinking about the key-term no longer brought the memories up as readily. Nor did they evoke strong feelings anymore. When he thought about his birthday now, he had to actually think for a moment to recall the date. He could still remember all those miserable birthdays at the Dursleys, but he no longer felt the sting of rejection and depression that had once gone with them. Nor the excitement of his eleventh birthday with Hagrid, though he clearly remembered that day.

It felt a bit as if it had happened to someone else, even though the memories obviously remained from his perspective. There was just something missing. Something undefinable. It made him feel slightly sad … and then again not. Because most of what was missing, he could really do without. But … there had been good moments, too. At least once he got to Hogwarts. As well as excitement, and even at times joy and happiness. He would miss that. Only not really, once it was gone. In a way, he would only be missing the _memory_ of the emotion instead.

He could understand why the technique had fallen into disuse though. He would probably not have agreed either, if he wasn't actually rather relieved to lose most of those emotional connections. But …

They did leave a void, and an oddly disturbing feeling of emptiness.

Of course he knew he would fill up the void through new experiences and memories. Better ones, for the most part. He only had to think of that amazing week in Spain to know the truth of it. However … a loss was a loss. Even if it was necessary. And while he knew he should not mourn the loss of the painful memories which made up the majority … it was _his_ pain. Which was silly, of course. However, once it was done, it was much harder to get upset about it. But he would likely still have resisted the loss, if it weren't for the calm, floating state of trance, and the comforting, _safe_ feeling the deep, smooth voice guiding him gave him.

Trust really was the key. He could hardly imagine how anyone would be able to do this to themselves … unless it affected only unpleasant things, of course. Then maybe.

Fortunately, bundling the memories together spared him having to actually _look_ at them in detail. No need to dwell too much on his past. _Too much_ being the operative term, unfortunately. Some things stood out, of course. Events that were too strongly invested emotionally. Like the day with Hagrid, for example. Disassociating that had taken nearly as long as dealing with all the other birthdays combined.

But even without going into detail, there was no hiding the general tenor of his past life.

.

Some of that, his father had already seen glimpses of during last year's disastrous Occlumency lessons. But it was obvious from the increasingly affected and grim expression Snape bore that a lot was new, too. Or maybe it was the fact there was such a lot of it? That it seemed … normal? The daily _grind_ at the Dursleys, the recurring neglect and emotional starvation he'd been subjected to all his life. Day after day. There was a lot of it, he had to admit. He'd always preferred not to think about it, and put it to the back of his mind.

But now it all came floating up again. And there was no hiding the many repeat occurrences of being locked up, of being shoved away, disregarded, taunted or mocked. Of watching with sad, envious eyes as he was surrounded by plenty, while he had to make do with the bare minimum.

So what if there was no outright physical abuse, aside from the occasional bit of man-handling by his uncle. Plus whatever his fortunately-not-actually-cousin dished out to him frequently, of course. He sure could blame his so-called caretakers for never putting a stop to that. But there was certainly neglect. So much neglect. As well as plenty of emotional abuse. Much of that he had actually forgotten about. Because it was simply part of the daily experience at Privet Drive.

He had learned to not really listen to it. Mostly. But it had happened. All the time. And the constant disregard and put-downs, as well as the double standards and inconsistencies had certainly left their traces in his behaviour. Like his lack of trust in adults. His tendency to not look beyond himself for help. That he clung to what little he had, and guarded it jealously in case someone took it away. Which surely someone would, unless he hid it carefully. Just as he had hid the neglect itself, because things could have been so much worse if he had told anyone. Because they would not have been pleased if others had learned of how not normal they treated him.

All of which his father was clearly not happy about.

"We _will_ talk about this," was all Snape said, however.

In a tone of voice which promised long, detailed discussions about his past. His past, to which he was feeling increasingly disconnected. Which, in theory, should make it easier to talk about. Surely, it would. Hopefully. Because it sure didn't look like he would be able to escape from dealing with it.

Well, there had to be at least one downside to having a father so determined to help and protect him.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"By the way, who leads the neutral faction of the Wizengamot?"

"That would be Lord Greengrass."

"Greengrass? Any relative to that girl in my year?"

"Indeed. She is his eldest daughter. Her younger sister is in Slytherin as well."

They had taken a break after a couple of hours. Frankly they needed it, both their nerves somewhat frayed after all that … _that_. He refused to dwell on his son's abominable past for now. There would be time for that … later. So after partaking of the sumptuous tea Winky had eagerly served them, and relaxing companionably in peaceful silence for a while, Severus was not best pleased when his son suddenly brought up something else important in a far too casual manner.

"Ah. Do you think it's possible for me to talk with him before the meeting tomorrow? Phineas suggested I ask him to be my proxy for the Wizengamot."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and resisted rolling his eyes in exasperation. Instead he shot his son a rather forbidding glare.

"How long ago did you come up with that? Could you not have mentioned it sooner? No doubt Lord Greengrass will wish to meet you beforehand _properly_, and question you thoroughly, before he agrees to anything. He is a Slytherin himself, we tend to consider before we jump, son of mine," he pointed out flatly.

And the boy was wilting again. Possibly because he would have to deal with yet another Slytherin. Or maybe it was Severus' stern expression, after all. At least the look on Corvus' face mirrored the one from earlier, and the boy's sigh sounded despondent.

"Yeah, you are right. I should have. I just … didn't think of that," he admitted with a wince. "I … do you really think I can do this? When I keep making mistakes like that all the time?"

His expression was now positively doleful. Which in turn, caused a strange pain in Severus' chest. Again. Because the remorse at making a simple mistake seemed genuine. Had the boy always been so eager to please, and so crestfallen when he failed? Severus had always thought him an arrogant brat who considered himself above repercussions and consequences. Apparently he had instead hidden his insecurities and hurts under a brash and at times aggressive front. Much like another young man a couple of decades earlier, come to think of it.

For all that it was … gratifying to discover himself in his own son, at times he would much prefer it if the child did not turn out to be quite so much like his father.

"Indeed," was all Severus could say. Trying to still sound stern. Because this was a lesson his son _had_ to learn. The sooner the better. "You will simply have to do your best. And again all I will say is … please learn from it. Remember … and always try to consider details and consequences. At least in those cases where you _have_ the time to do so. I cannot stress the importance of that enough, Corvus!"

He received a woeful nod and a murmur of assent, after which the boy visibly pulled himself together. That at least, was a lesson slowly but surely sinking in. Do not show your weakness … and do not admit your failings in public. What you did in private, and with those you trusted, was another matter. But as a Slytherin he could not afford to hand anyone a weapon, and strong or uncontrolled public reactions were all to easily exploited. However, it seemed Phineas was doing good work on that front. For all the boy still made mistakes, the general trend was quite promising.

He would be ready. He would have to be.

"Good. I will see what can be done on such short notice … hopefully he has some time to spare before the meeting tomorrow. If he does, I would hope his curiosity has been sparked sufficiently by what has no doubt been leaked about you. Plus it would be to his profit if the neutral influence is swelled by the Black vote. That should tempt him as well."

"Thank you. So … he's a Slytherin?"

"Yes. One of the neutral ones, obviously. I do not know him well, personally … he graduated before I started Hogwarts. He is said to be a fair-minded man … but he is also a politician to boot. He will not commit himself to anything blindly, nor will he do something with nothing to gain for his side."

"But do you think I can trust him?"

"As a representative? No doubt. Both he and his father before him have always kept strictly away from the Dark Lord and his politics. He is not terribly modern in his outlook, though, and more or less traditional in his views … but then few of the neutrals are reformers as such. You must realise this, if you wish to work with them. They like stability as much as they desire balance … which is generally not achieved by rocking the boat too much."

"Oh. I guess you are right about that ..." the boy trailed off into a thoughtful silence. Obviously thinking very hard by the look of concentration on his face.

"The neutral families are mostly old blood, though they are far more open-minded about mingling with newer blood. They are certainly not blood-purists, not by a long stretch … but that does not mean they are necessarily lovers of all things muggle, you understand?"

"I think so, yes. As long as they are not in Riddle's pocket, I can work with them. It's not as if I want to change everything either, really."

"Just a few things here and there, hmm?"

"Well, there are things that would improve matters for the muggle-born quite a bit … without actually damaging tradition at all. It would probably even help preserve it. It's just that no-one ever seemed to think of them."

"Then by all means … who am I to stand in the way of your ambitions," Severus said somewhat mockingly. "As long as you realise that for now your focus has to be on dealing with the threat of the Dark Lord."

"As if I could forget that, Padre."

"See that you don't. As for the meeting … I will see what I can arrange. Because I cannot openly contact him myself, nor would it be wise for _Albus_ to approach Lord Greengrass in your name. He would be instantly on his guard."

"Oh. I didn't think of that, either."

Severus graced his offspring with a sardonically raised eyebrow.

"Obviously."

"I know. Learn from it."

.

oOoOoOoOo

And of course, just as he had expected, Harry the _Gryffindor_ turned out to be another major thing. Because he had identified so strongly with that. How could he not, when most of his life at school seemed to centre around his house? From the place he lived, to the people he spent time with. It came up whenever he went to bed in the Gryffindor dorms, or sat down to eat at the Gryffindor table. It was unavoidable whenever he went to a class with other Gryffindors and had points lost or gained for Gryffindor. He trained with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and spent his evenings in the Gryffindor common room. He was surrounded by Gryffindor colours, wore Gryffindor clothes, and bore the Gryffindor emblem.

Gryffindor was everywhere. Or as McGonagall had put it before their sorting, your house was your family. A rather close and clingy family at that.

He also used to have Gryffindor parents. Or at least he had thought so. So all in all, Gryffindor had defined Harry Potter to an astonishing degree.

It would be … interesting to see if Slytherin would come to mean the same for Corvus Black. He rather thought not. Or at least not nearly as strongly. Mostly because he was older already, and would spend far less time in his prospective new house. Then again, he probably had tons of Slytherin forebears now, come to think of it. And when he chose to get new fabrics for his room, somehow it ended up mostly green. Way to go, really.

It wasn't as if he would lose Gryffindor altogether. Merely the overwhelming presence it used to be. He'd remember those five years well enough. But it would still be a big change. And a huge loss, in a way. Especially since he would also lose his equally Gryffindor friends.

He would miss them. Or rather miss missing them. Once it was done, it simply wasn't the same anymore. He had not forgotten anything. It was just all … more distant. Less immediate. He still knew those memories, in every detail. But he no longer _felt_ them so strongly. And they no longer triggered responses. Which was after all the main reason for doing this. So he could tell the new truth instead of the old one. Sort of.

It was mildly disconcerting, though, how much less the loss of his friends upset him now. In fact, he would likely not have gotten caught by Moody, if they had done this before today. But he wouldn't have been able to be the Harry his friends knew, either. Which was a somewhat ... chilling realisation. Yesterday, it would have really disturbed him. Now … it didn't seem such a big deal anymore. And it was mostly reversible, anyway. Only …

If they ended up not forgiving him, if they ended up disliking Corvus, if Ron just couldn't manage to look past a green and silver tie, and Hermione couldn't stand having been kept out of the loop …

It would be far easier to leave it like this. Far easier to lose a friendship, when all he had of that friendship were memories that felt vaguely distant.

When instead of the pain, he merely had the memory of the pain. It was certainly something to keep in mind for the future. Depending on how everything turned out.

He was also grateful the bulk of his memories had loosened their hold on his feelings already. Because in the end, after a short break for dinner, they had to tackle the worst ones. Those memories so emotionally loaded they stood out from the mass. The ones so memorable because they had shaped the path of his life. Far too many of these moments seemed almost soaked in sheer terror. He never liked to dwell on how often he had almost died, or at least been badly hurt. Yet those moments were the ones which had most strongly contributed to forming his identity. Who he was.

But they had to be dealt with, because they not only made him _him_, but also _Harry Potter_. Removing the emotional triggers did not make them less character forming, but it made them far less connected to his past identity. It made them a bit less traumatic, too. However, first he had to live through them again. Which was pretty hard. And judging from the strained expression on his father's face, not only for Corvus. Because while Snape had known the general gist of what had happened to Harry during those five years, he had certainly not been aware of all the _details_. And while disassociating the memories, the other wizard was exposed to the emotions carried by them, too.

Obviously Corvus Black would have few secrets from his father after this.

Once again it was only the trance which made it possible at all. Otherwise he would have been an emotional wreck soon after they began this part. With the trance, however, he was able to soldier on, through one more or less traumatic memory after the other.

But the last, and by far the worst one was the horrible day at the Ministry. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when really it was just a few weeks. The day the conflict with Umbridge had finally come to a head. The day full of stress and apprehension while flying to London on the Thestrals, thinking Sirius was being tortured. The day he and his friends had been fighting for their lives against Death Eaters. The day those friends had gotten hurt because they came along to help him. The day Voldemort possessed him, and nearly killed him. Again.

The day his mother killed his godfather.

All finished of by learning about the Prophecy, and all the things Dumbledore had kept from him. It was really no wonder he had totally lost it in the headmaster's office.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Fortunately, by the time they finally finished, it was rather too late to talk about the content of his memories. Because he really didn't fancy that on top of everything today. But he could almost see his father compose a mental list of issues they would be talking about. Eventually. Inevitably. At the moment he was simply grateful to accept the comfort of the other man's embrace instead. Again. Though given everything, it probably wasn't only for his own comfort. Snape had seemed rather rattled by a lot of those … individual memories. But then, a lot of them had featured some kind of mortal danger. And the last one had certainly be the crowning glory.

"Señora Moralez was right. Regrets and doubts have haunted your life ..."

Corvus nodded into his father's shoulder. "Yes. That's why I need you."

"And it seems Albus was right, as well," Snape continued softly.

"Hmm?"

"That was what he told me right after we discovered you were my son ..."

"But you did not believe him?"

"I did not believe you could come to forgive me so easily," Snape corrected, gently patting his son's back in a gesture which oddly did not feel unnatural at all.

It should have been surreal. But it no longer was. Not after everything they had gone through together today. Not after everything the man had done for him. Besides, the horrible way Snape used to treat Harry Potter was now a part of the past, too. The part which no longer mattered very much.

"I guess I always had this big parent shaped hole in my life, which you are filling quite nicely these days, Padre."

"Do I? Whatever did I do for you to come to trust me in such a short time?"

"You were sorry. And you are, and have always been, consistent."

"Meaning?"

"That once you said you would start afresh … you did. You haven't really slipped up since. Sometimes you are maybe a bit impatient. And you can be very sarcastic and snarky," Corvus told him with a tired smile. "But I can live with that. And you've been there for me, and helped me, and now you are finally listening, too. In short, ever since you've started seeing me for myself, you've done everything you've said you would."

"It was the least I could do, after all I put you through before."

"Yes. But that's why I'm actually glad, really glad, it turned out to be you, Padre."

"Well, given my competition... "

"No. That's not what I meant. I am glad it turned out to be you, and not _James_."

"Oh."

It seemed he had finally managed to render his father speechless.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Uh, oh. I must admit, I did not expect those (almost violent) reactions about Moody from some of you! You know, Severus was going to totally let this go with nary a word (aside from the lecture about getting caught to Corvus), but you were right. If he is that protective, he should at least flay Moody verbally. And so he will. Next chapter. Which brings me to the (sadly) usual attempt of making my excuses about being so late in updating. Unfortunately, my muse seems to be next to useless these days, which combined with my own lack of motivation makes for a real disaster. So all I can say is sorry for making you wait, and I shall endeavour to do better. Cross fingers, Daumenhalten, and so on. Oh, and here's your pitchfork back, Amarenima.

Thanks, as always, for the many positive reviews! I love reading them. I am also very happy you appear to enjoy the emerging relationship between father and son … I hope I didn't overdo it this time. There was a fair bit of possibly somewhat OOC hugging, but then, it was also a rather emotional chapter. That's when those two get into hugging. At least in private. I somehow just can't imagine Severus hugging anybody in public … well, maybe if he is really, really relieved after being terrified out of his wits beforehand. Then I can totally see a hugging Snape!


	29. La Hierba es Verde

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"_Moody_."

The name was growled with all the viciousness of an enraged bulldog. It certainly held all the displeasure he had felt after hearing what the idiot had done to Corvus. Had dared to do to his son. Though even without that factored in … there were some things you just _did not do_ to an ally. Especially one who had readily sworn the oath demanded of him, and had been nothing but courteous to everybody. Even when he did not need to. One who had furthermore been vouched for by their leader himself.

All in all, Alastor Moody had been very much out of line. Though possibly the old goat had managed to forget he was not an Auror anymore. And that Corvus was not a crime suspect. Looking so much like Bellatrix had probably not helped his case, either. However, that was still _no excuse_ whatsoever in Severus' books ...

Admittedly, the boy had actually been lying to everybody, but that was hardly his fault. However, he had been perfectly truthful about the important matters … that he was against Voldemort, that he was not a risk to their safety, and willing to aid the Order. After all, he needed their help in return if he was ever going to get out from under the shadow of the Dark Lord. Taking on a different identity had unfortunately neither allowed Corvus to escape the prophecy, nor severed the strange link he shared with the madman. To survive, and hopefully take the Dark Lord down before too long, they would need the Order.

Unless the Ministry managed to miraculously shape up under its new leadership, which remained more than doubtful. Certainly it was nothing they could count on. And thus they had to make nice with the various members of the Order, no matter how much some individuals might irk him ...

"Snape," the other wizard acknowledged, his raspy voice unexpectedly non-confrontational. Well, well, wasn't that interesting?

His body-language was even more revealing, as the old Auror had suddenly stilled, and while his hand had almost completed the movement to draw his wand … it had not finished the move. Nor would Moody meet Severus' eyes, which was equally unusual. Normally the man always seemed to be spoiling for a fight, even around witnesses. To show such restraint when they were _alone_ … might mean he actually felt guilty. And possibly even conflicted about his old, ongoing vendetta against Severus himself.

"I hope you are pleased with yourself," he told the old fool in his most acerbic tones.

"It's obvious you aren't," Moody replied, still not looking him in the eye. In fact, he appeared rather sulky. Most interesting, indeed.

"Did you even consider the possible consequences? What if the boy had been exactly who he claimed to be? A stranger, whose allegiance and commitment we have yet to fully win? How do you think he might have reacted after being assaulted by someone supposedly on his side? But I assume you were so caught up in your narrow, paranoid world, you failed to see the bigger picture?" Severus asked scathingly, crossing his arms and staring hard at the other wizard.

Tapping his wand impatiently against his left biceps, because he was not so foolish as to confront Moody unarmed. The old Auror was finally returning Severus' glare, and the sulkiness was giving way to a rage of his own. Though he still had not drawn his wand.

"Well, excuse me, I'd just seen him come in looking like _Harry Potter_. Which made no sense at all, and positively screamed of deceit and lies!"

"An idea which was firmly stuck in your mind all along, wasn't it? But you had no right whatsoever to subject him to Veritaserum … especially when the boy kept asking you to call _Albus_!"

The idiot visibly faltered at that argument, though his one-eyed glare did not let up.

"I thought he was just trying to delay me, and to wriggle out of telling the truth," he spat out finally.

Severus shook his head and gave him a truly venomous look. "You may have been a great Auror once upon a time, Moody, but you fail amazingly at some things which can be even more important than the truth in the long run … like _diplomacy. _Not everything is a mystery begging to be solved by the great detective Mad-eye and his astonishing false eye of truth-seeking," he said, his voice full of mockery.

"I was concerned for all our safety!"

"And where would our safety be if the new Lord Black was highly offended by your deeds and subsequently kicked the Order out of his house? Where would it be if he felt we had broken the very spirit of the oath we demanded of him? He might easily have exposed us, if not directly, then certainly indirectly. His oath does not cover every angle, after all. He would have been quite within his rights to act against you, since you illegally dosed him with Veritaserum. After you assaulted him in his own home!"

The disfigured face had lost its enraged look again during Severus' last tirade. It was the first time he had actually seen Moody look crestfallen. Clearly the man had not considered _that_ aspect of things in his investigative and vengeful zeal against the offspring of Bellatrix.

"For that matter, what do you think getting abducted and tied up would do to _Harry Potter_? After he was taken at the tournament? The boy has barely dealt with what happened at the Ministry, he did not need a reminder of that on top of it!"

"Well, how was I to know he really was Potter after all? You sure went out of your way to muddy the waters!"

"For very good reasons! And maybe we also had very good reasons to keep the number of those in the know as small as possible!"

"As if I would have blabbed about it, Snape!"

He gave the other man a measured look, and finally a grudging nod. "Well, probably not, at that. But given how much you made your dislike for the offspring of _Bellatrix_ clear from the start … how could we be sure you would treat her son differently just because he used to be Harry Potter? So excuse us if we hardly wanted you around more than necessary."

"You realise that's rather ironic coming from you, Snape? Given how you used to be the worst offender when you thought the boy was _James Potter's_ son!"

"And that is _exactly_ why I will not allow anyone else to follow in my footsteps now! Because I was wrong to do it, and I will not have anyone else pick up where I left off if I can prevent it!"

"All right, all right. I'm sorry. It was stupid. And irrational. But your brat had to bring up the year I spent locked in my own trunk … that really pushed me over the edge," Moody admitted with a growl. A very shamefaced growl, however.

Oh, victory was sweet. But speaking of _his_ brat ...

"And none of that even takes into account that you _dared to_ _threaten_ _my son_!"

Strangely enough this declaration just made the old goat give a huff of exasperation and smirk at him. "Albus warned me you'd go and be all protective of the lad now. But … well, I guess I get now that you really left You-Know-Who's side for good. I was never totally sure of you, even though Albus swore up and down for your loyalty. I simply couldn't see the _why_ for your apparent change of heart ..."

"So now you think you do?" Severus bit out, feeling annoyed and vindicated at the same time.

"Aye. I've seen what parenthood can do to people … and with a protective streak as wide as yours, there's no way you'd risk your own kid. And well, taking him away from his mother, so he'd get to grow up with better people, and giving him up, too … that took quite a lot, I reckon."

"I might simply have wanted him out of the way," he pointed out coldly. "So I could continue to serve my master better."

But damn it, Moody was right. The boy triggered every protective impulse he had known he had, and some he had never been aware of.

"Nay, Snape. In that case, if you were truly his creature, you'd have given the bairn to your Lord and master. Or just made sure he was never born in the first place. Would have been a damn sight easier for a potions master, wouldn't it?"

"True," Severus admitted with a weary sigh. "And I have to admit I will not mind in the slightest if I am no longer subjected to your incessant mistrust. That got old a long time ago."

"Truce?"

"Truce. But do anything like that ever again ..."

"What about for training? You can't afford to coddle the kid, can you?"

"Do anything like that ever again without _checking with me first_ ..."

"All right, all right, I get it! No need to point that thing at me!"

"And you had better take good care of him today. I am holding you responsible for his safety!"

"Sheesh. They ought to include overprotective parents in the list of dangerous creatures. Probably a good thing I never actually got to teach at Hogwarts."

"Welcome to my life, Mad-eye."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Once again Corvus Black was walking down Diagon Alley, only this time it was rather busy, as it was close to noon. He wasn't hiding his head underneath a hood, either. Which meant there were stares, and double-takes, and frowns. After all, he looked amazingly like his mother, though fortunately the similarity to her wanted poster was minimal. At least he didn't look starved, crazed and in dire need of a hair-brush. Fortunately nobody was foolhardy enough to approach him, which was probably due to Mad-eye glaring at everyone indiscriminately.

Once again, he was also feeling a bit apprehensive. Though he did wonder why he wasn't far _more_ nervous.

Yes, he was worried he might mess up his appeal to Lord Greengrass. However, he wasn't concerned at all about revealing himself by accident. Partly because he'd never met the wizard previously, but mostly because he simply wasn't Harry Potter anymore. Not after yesterday. Of course the memories remained. But otherwise he felt so different. Considerably more calm and composed for one, and also rather more self-confident. He'd already handled so much in his life. He'd easily managed to fool the Order, including even Moody.

He could do this.

He had spent the remains of last evening skimming through the etiquette book he'd gotten from the Patil twins. His pretence of being foreign would excuse a multitude of minor sins, but the fewer mistakes he made to begin with, the better. As it was, he found the book largely a confirmation of what he already knew … thank you, Inez, so very much … though there were some cultural differences. But on the whole he felt fairly confident about that aspect of the upcoming meeting.

As for the other thing he had to worry about … well, they'd gone over various reasons the faction leader should have for accepting Corvus' proposal. As well as possible reservations he could have that might make him refuse it. And what Corvus might do to convince the man. Phineas had been ever so helpful with finding arguments, though he had received some useful advice from the others, too.

He was really grateful for all that adult help, from people who mostly came with a Slytherin mindset. People who understood politics and the art of negotiation far better than him.

Because today his adversary was neither a dangerous but largely mindless creature, nor was there going to be a fight. Gryffindor bravery and directness was pretty useless when your goal was to convince cunning, thoughtful _people_ with an agenda of their own to do something for you.

Therefore he had to work with a rather more Slytherin approach. Nothing is for free. Everything has a price.

To calculate whether the price was worth the gain, if they balanced out or were badly tilted in one direction, was something drilled into the prospective Slytherins from early on. Those born into families who traditionally went into the house. Everybody else who ended up there was undeniably at a disadvantage. Especially since they likely also lacked the network of connections the others had. All things considered, it was quite understandable the sorting hat did not often put any muggle-born or raised there, no matter what Salazar Slytherin himself had originally wanted.

Because Slytherin was a difficult, unforgiving place for those not born and raised for it. Anyone who managed to flourish there despite this handicap, would have to possess a very Slytherin nature to make up for it.

And he didn't really have that, no matter what the sorting hat thought. Not entirely, at least. However, what he did have was excellent support in the form of the head of house, and a former Slytherin headmaster. Not to forget he had the current headmaster on his side, too. As well as far more knowledge of his new house-mates and the school in general than Corvus Black ought to have. Add his wealth, good looks, a fancy wardrobe and a prestigious if infamous family name. He also had charm and manners, despite them being kind of artificial, and a faked foreign back-ground to help distract from whatever mistakes he would inevitably make.

All of which would help. But not necessarily today, when he really needed to keep his mind on target and stop wool-gathering. Again.

Yet for all that he was not quite a Slytherin, he was no longer the charging Gryffindor stag either. He was now the heron, waiting and patient. Therefore … do not muddy the water unnecessarily. Wait. Don't charge in blindly. Wait. There would be small talk. This was simply lunch. A pleasant meal, where he would make a new acquaintance. He could be forthright once they got to the actual matter. However, until then … be charming, respectful and polite. But also self-confident, poised, and calm. And wait for the right moment to strike.

Like the heron.

Once again he hesitated, this time with a hand on the handle of the door to the posh restaurant where that lunch would take place. But then his gaze went to the hand itself, graced with a heavy golden seal-ring, and with a line of runes running down its back. Always remember you are Lord Black. And that you carry the flame of certainty with you where-ever you go. Anyway, it was simply lunch.

He gave Moody and Dora a decisive nod, and pushed the door open.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Inside, Moody consulted with a waiter whose gaze seemed rather disapproving of the old Auror. But when he took in Corvus' carefully styled appearance, every raven curl held firmly in place by an old silver filigree clasp, well-fitting black trousers and shirt underneath the perfection of a dark blue robe encrusted delicately with seed-pearls on the hem and the stiff neck-line, his expression changed to slightly greedy approval.

Thus Corvus was led with a fair deal of deference to a secluded booth, while his two security-shadows melted into the background with the ease of professional watch-dogs. On their way here Moody had gruffly assured him they'd make sure the meeting would be undisturbed … and that no-one would be able to spy on them, either. It was nice to leave such details to others for once. Especially someone who knew what they were doing. Besides, Moody rather owed him. From the way the wizard had twitched when Snape glared at him before they left, his father obviously had … words with him, too.

Yes, it was indeed really nice to have people look out for you.

The man rising to meet him, extending his hand in a courteous welcome, didn't match the picture of the oily, shifty politician Corvus' mind had instinctively painted. But then, his personal experience with politicians so far was limited to people like Fudge and Malfoy, who probably didn't represent the best of the breed.

Instead, Lord Greengrass was a distinguished looking wizard in his fifties, with a well groomed short beard and wavy shoulder-length dark-blond hair shot-through with a sprinkling of silver. His smile seemed just as slightly distant and deliberately charming as the one Corvus himself had been practising recently. And though laugh-lines were clearly visible around his eyes, there was currently no laughter in the shrewd blue eyes mustering him over their joint handshake. He didn't appear arrogant or threatening, but also not like someone you wanted to cross. The wizard was exquisitely polite, with an air of quiet dignity … while his demeanour gave nothing away.

In short, he looked to be someone whose behaviour Corvus would do well to copy.

Once the first exchange of courtesies was over, Lord Greengrass resumed his seat with the kind of unconscious grace only long practise could give you, and which Corvus secretly despaired of ever achieving. But at least he managed to settle stiffly across from the other wizard without appearing too bumbling. The waiter presented them with a menu each, and then left the two men alone with a final respectful little bow.

He didn't have to pretend to being puzzled by parts of the menu, because his restricted upbringing had certainly not exposed him to finer cuisine. And of course at Hogwarts the food was tasty, and filling, but generally created for the robust appetites of growing teenagers. However, he simply blamed his ignorance on being foreign, and was charmingly grateful for the advice his host gave him.

The selection of food and drink was followed, just as expected, by small talk. They touched on Corvus' supposed background, his impressions of Britain so far, and of course the mainstay of any small talk, the frequently dismal nature of British weather. In return he managed to get his lunch-partner to talk about the other wizard's family, the peculiarities of wizarding Britain, and Hogwarts. All the while studiously avoiding anything even remotely related to politics, or Voldemort. Instead he learned about the man's two daughters in Slytherin, and his Ravenclaw wife.

He was also told several amusing anecdotes of Hogwarts from a Slytherin perspective … one remarkably untainted by the negativity and prejudices he'd come to expect from his own experiences. Apparently it was perfectly possible to be a Slytherin and have friends in the other houses. At least if you were part of a certain network of students united by shared interests in academia and their political views. He could only conclude from his own lack of knowledge about it that they didn't normally recruit outsiders … or else Harry Potter had simply been seen as too firmly on the Light side of things to bother with. Keeping company with Ron Weasley probably hadn't helped either in that regard.

He could only hope they wouldn't automatically see Corvus Black as too firmly on the Dark side, just because of his family name.

On the other hand, an almost guaranteed access to that group of students was sitting right across from him, and slowly but surely warming up to Corvus. And the man even had two daughters conveniently in Slytherin, too ...

That he was warming up was evident from the fact that the anecdotes became more personal as they progressed through lunch, and that the polite smile on Lord Greengrass' face actually started to reach his eyes as well. There were some other minor cues, and once again he could only thank the old Spanish witch. Because Harry Potter would likely have missed most of them. When you lived amongst the Lions, who were so loud and obvious about their reactions, you hardly had to learn how to spot the subtle signs. Which he had started to do in his childhood, but only partly. He'd only learned the parts which were about avoiding trouble and punishment.

But he also needed to be able to recognise the signs signalling approval and a willingness to listen. The ones telling him the moment to strike was _now_, that the fish had risen sufficiently to be snatched up. His instincts also told him that the catch was indeed what he was looking for, and that his lunch-partner was the right person for the job. And so he put down his spoon on the cleared plate, which by now only held the memory of a delicious dessert, and fixed the other wizard with his best earnest look.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"As we have limited time left before the Wizengamot session starts, I fear I must now be blunt, Lord Greengrass. No matter how entertaining our conversation was so far. Were you told at all why I sought to meet with you, Señor?"

"Not exactly," the older wizard replied cautiously, setting down his glass with studied precision and interlacing his fingers gracefully. His gaze meanwhile remained firmly on Corvus' face. Unfortunately, his expression had regained the distant politeness he had shown at the start. "If only since our meeting was arranged in a somewhat … roundabout fashion. Though some reasons seem more likely than others, obviously."

Corvus inclined his head slightly and leaned back, returning the gaze frankly. He allowed his smile to turn somewhat mocking, matching the tone of voice for his next few words.

"Let me tell you then, sir. My problem is that your Wizengamot, in their infinite wisdom, has decided to turn my seeking of emancipation into something of a circus show. Therefore I find myself in need of an … advocate. I was advised their fears might be calmed, if I had a proxy for my seat until I come of age and can take it up properly myself."

"Ah. That possibility was, indeed, on my list," the older Lord admitted, his voice carefully non-committal.

"Excellente. In that case it will hopefully also not come as a surprise that you were recommended to me … or rather the position you hold within the Wizengamot."

"Since you opted for bluntness, young Lord Black, I will extend you the same courtesy. Frankly, I am still somewhat surprised. I would have expected you to align yourself with the Light faction, given how Albus Dumbledore all but sponsored you ..."

"Sir, I have no quarrel with Professor Dumbledore, nor he with me. However, having my name too closely linked to him would not altogether serve my purpose."

"Is that so? And what would be your … purpose?" Lord Greengrass asked with an ironically lifted eyebrow. Clearly intrigued, but not giving away anything more than that. Of course Corvus had not yet put all his cards on the table, either.

"Hablando francamente … I simply do not wish to get drawn into a conflict the very moment I arrive in this country. I would also much prefer to finish my schooling in peace. Circumstances force me to take up this Lordship early … entonces, I am hardly prepared for it. Especially since I was not even aware of it until recently. I know far too little of the politics here. To declare myself for the Light side would mean picking a side in a fight which to me is largely … incomprensible. And no little disturbing, given who my … mother is."

He allowed his expression to slip into one of distress for the last sentence. It seemed he had managed to get his point across, as the distant expression on the other wizard's face became rather more sympathetic. While his unwavering gaze turned speculative.

"Well. I can sympathise with your reasonings so far, I must admit. If I suddenly found myself in your position … I suppose I would not want to commit myself either."

"Thank you. And I was raised traditionally as well. Of course we do not share some of the British prejudices in Spain. To us, purity of birth is far less important compared to what a person of magical birth does with their lives. But observing magical traditions, and keeping our world separate from the very mundane, that yes. That I do value very much. From what I was told, I should find myself more at home with those you represent, no?"

"Oh, quite likely," Lord Greengrass admitted somewhat airily, with a smile which actually brought the wrinkles to life for a moment. "That aside, and since we began this discussion so bluntly … what do you think we stand to gain from this? Meaning the people and votes I represent?"

"Another vote on the Wizengamot? Quite possibly an ally for the future? Or even just a way to keep an eye on me, should I turn out to be dishonest?"

"Or a way for you to drag our name through the mud with you, if we lend you its shelter?" the other wizard countered swiftly, his expression unreadable again. "Perhaps even an in for a spy?"

Corvus flashed him a wry smile and leaned forward intently. "Then what would convince you? Satisfy you? What is your price?"

"Price?"

"You know as well as I nothing is ever truly for free. Everything has a cost, in the end. In some cases, the price was simply paid a long time ago … in others, it will not be paid for a long time yet."

"What an interesting view of human interactions you have, young man. Almost the epitome of Slytherin, while at the same time startlingly … honest."

"The two are not mutually exclusive, are they? And from what I have learned of the houses of Hogwarts so far, it would be no great surprise to me if I ended up sorted into house Slytherin," he admitted with another wry smile. "It seems to match my nature by far the best."

Lord Greengrass stroked his beard with a calculating gleam in his eyes. "Yes, I believe I can see that. Which of course, makes you both more and less … desirable as an associate."

Corvus sighed and finally allowed his frustration to show, running a hand through his dark curls. "In that case, all I can do is repeat … what can I do to convince you?"

"Hmm. I suppose, to some extent we shall have to wait for the result of your questioning. That should … dispel many doubts, shouldn't it?"

"Claro que sí. But other than that? What is it you would require of me? An oath? A contract even? My first-born heir?"

The last was asked quite sarcastically. He was surprised it nevertheless managed to produce an amused chuckle from the collected wizard sitting opposite him.

"Well, I must confess … I do rather like you, young man. Your conversation is ... refreshing, and I have always appreciated a pragmatic outlook," the wizard allowed, continuing to stroke his beard meditatively while he eyed Corvus pensively. "I would like to ask you a few questions right now, under a spell of truthfulness, if you are agreeable. Questions which likely will not come up later."

"De acuerdo, Señor. I must agree. I can understand you require further reassurances, and since it is me who is the one asking for a favour ..."

"Thank you. And this spell is not like Veritaserum … it simply indicates the truthfulness of your statements. It does not force you to speak, nor does it have any harmful consequences. Well, aside from making me less likely to trust you, in case you lie."

"That is obvious, Lord Greengrass. So … the spell?"

"Ah yes. It is not very difficult … you just need to tap your wand to your throat as you speak the words '_cave falsitas_', and imagine drawing a light out of it which clings to the tip of the wand. It should stay lightened while the spell is active, and will dim in case you utter a falsehood."

It was indeed easy enough, and as he put his wand down in front of him it looked just like a softly gleaming _lumos_. He kept his hand lying lightly on the grip, taking comfort from the contact with the carved cedar-wood.

"What is your name?"

"Esteban Santiago."

The light promptly went out.

"How about the real one?"

"Corvus Black."

The light glowed back to life. Now to make it stay, which might require some manoeuvring, depending on the questions the other wizard wanted to ask him.

"Do you serve the Dark Lord known as Voldemort?"

"No."

"Do you intend to?"

"In no way or form," Corvus said firmly. Those kind of questions were easy, after all.

"What are your intentions regarding House Black?"

"I have learned it was not always considered a Dark house. Supposedly it was once part of the very group you represent. I would like to see it returned there."

This earned him a raised eyebrow, and a decidedly interested expression on the face of his interrogator. However, the other wizard simply fired the next question at Corvus without commenting.

"What is your view of blood-purity."

"It is over-rated. Those of less pure birth are still every bit as magical, though they admittedly come from an uninformed background. It should be our duty to educate them better and help them fit into our world. It is often not their fault if they do not know any better."

"And the muggles?"

"They have the same right to exist in peace as wizards do," he said with a shrug. "They are potentially every bit as intelligent and capable as us … aside from lacking magic, of course. But I believe separation from them is best for all of us. Magic gives us a great advantage over them individually, however their sheer numbers and their technology make them increasingly more powerful in their entirety. And a growing threat as well," he added thoughtfully.

Fortunately, since the spell did not force him to speak, he could take his time to formulate his answers to each question. The other wizard did not appear to mind if Corvus spoke haltingly and with pauses. Or maybe he thought it natural, for someone not entirely comfortable with English. He seemed to be getting rather good at faking a slight Spanish accent, too. Another valuable thing he had picked up during the week in Spain. And if his English was nearly perfect otherwise … well, he'd simply had good teachers. It wasn't as if anyone could prove the opposite.

"How would you propose we deal with such a … threat?"

"It is not really one we could overcome by force. I believe instead wizards will have to work harder in the future to stay hidden from them. Considering them very inferior beings does not help with that. Too many are careless when dealing with muggles, because they underestimate them. That is the main reason why the magical population needs to be better educated about what technology can do. If we do not know about it, we cannot guard against it."

"Hmm. An interesting viewpoint. And distressingly … valid, I must admit. Well. What are your views on the Light, Dark and neutral factions here in Britain?"

"As far as I can tell, the Light appears to define itself mostly in its opposition to the Dark. I have met a number of their supporters in the last few days. They believe themselves to be more modern and open, but in truth they seemed far too often judgemental and parochial to me. They are … not bad people, but … they _are_ prejudiced. And sadly far more set in their ways and opinions than they realise. They also tend to blindly follow their leader, and while I will freely say Albus Dumbledore seems like a great and fairly wise wizard … he is _old_. His opinions and views were formed a long time ago, when the world was different still. I am not sure he can fully understand the problems we may face in the future."

Nor did the old wizard always make the right decisions. He'd also proven to be quite unaware of the consequences at times. He certainly wasn't omniscient. Just … powerful, and undoubtedly experienced. But after many of the disasters of the last years, he honestly couldn't say that following the headmaster blindly was the thing to do. Yes, they all needed to work together, and Corvus would be the first to admit he needed the old man's help to deal with Voldemort. However, where politics were concerned, and what he thought necessary changes to their society … he didn't really agree with Dumbledore anymore.

Because the old man had been blind far too often, and frequently it would have been better if he'd taken a firmer stance on things. But most of all he _was_ old. Not that Corvus himself was any big expert, but he'd seen enough of Dudley's stuff to know that computers and communication gadgets were developing and improving at an alarming rate. He seriously doubted many of the older generations of witches and wizards had any clue whatsoever what the muggles could do with them. Nor were the younger ones all that much better, if he was honest.

"And you believe the members of the neutrals can?"

"Tal vez?" Corvus told him with a wry smile. "Hopefully? But I think they should be more open to compromises at least, and willing to see both sides of things. I realise they mostly follow a traditional outlook, which I certainly do not mind. Our magical traditions are what makes us wizards. And witches, of course. We are defined, and separated from the muggles, by our magic. We need to cherish this, as it gives us our identity. Yet we cannot be blind to the world around us. Which does not mean abandoning traditions, just … being _aware_. I think you can cherish something even more when you are aware of the differences. But I fear the British, especially your Ministry, are at times dreadfully blind."

"Such is the nature of most bureaucracy, unfortunately," Lord Greengrass pointed out, sounding surprisingly disgusted. "And I believe your views would find a welcome amongst most of my peers. Not all, perhaps. Some of them could do with fresh ideas, and an outsider's viewpoint."

"Sometimes all we can do is agree to disagree," Corvus replied with a sigh. "I had two good friends, who rarely agreed on anything, but still they were friends. They were also helpful in practising diplomacy," he added wryly, remembering the many times Ron and Hermione had quarrelled. Which made him wonder how their friendship would fare now that he was no longer there to provide a buffer in the middle.

It was actually kind of amusing. In a way he had held the neutral position all along, hadn't he? Though there had been times he and Ron had fallen out, when Hermione had tried to intervene. Not that she'd ever been very successful with that. In fact, he couldn't see many of the Gryffindors have a successful career in the diplomatic corps. That was something far more suited for the Ravenclaws and Slytherins. Even Hufflepuffs would do a lot better at it than Gryffindors, if he was honest.

"As for the followers of the Dark ... it is hard for me to say what Dark truly means, here. The British have a reputation for labelling a great many things 'Dark', which are at most seen as grey elsewhere. Or simply old, or perhaps dangerous. But as far as I can tell those who consider themselves Dark here are also usually blood-purists and very much against anything muggle, which as I have said, I think foolish and short-sighted."

"And the current Dark Lord does not help," he continued with a frown. "He and his followers are seen as such a threat, that others seem ... inconsequential in comparison. But he is really a sorry reminder of darker times. You are allowing the fear of a single man and those few he has at his side to dominate your lives. He is more of a danger to traditions and wizarding kind itself than the muggles, no es así? Yet he is nothing more than a murdering terrorist!"

Because that's all the Dark Lord really was. As far as he could tell, Voldemort didn't appear to have much of an actual political agenda left. Because it was insane to think one could kill all the normal people, with how many of them there were. Even if they merely got rid of all the muggle-born, the pure-bloods would find themselves bred out of existence pretty fast. It had probably been different at the start. But now, Voldemort really just did a lot of pointless torturing and killing.

"And that is why I do not wish to follow someone like him, or even associate with the Dark side. But neither is the Light side quite what I want," he concluded finally.

All he had said was actually, fortunately, the truth as he now saw it. Yes, Voldemort had to go. But the Light side seemed far too … Gryffindor to him. Which he had come to perceive as something … problematic, at least to some extent. He wasn't against them, not at all. However, as Lord Black, he had no desire to declare himself for them, either. No, what he wanted was to find a bunch of open-minded people, to help make whatever changes were necessary to see them into the next century. Which didn't necessarily mean overthrowing all tradition, but required enough _flexibility_ of thinking and pragmatism to make things work out right. Whatever they would be.

"Well, that was rather more … comprehensive than I had expected. One last question then … what do you actually expect of me?"

"Just as I said … I need someone to hold my seat until I come of age. You were recommended to me as a good choice for that, and since I am strongly considering joining my seat to your faction once I reach my majority … need I say more? Otherwise I have no expectations."

And damn it, but the light dimmed. It did not go out altogether, but …

"Really?"

That question was delivered in a dangerous drawl. Corvus suppressed a shiver. What else did he expect … ah ...

"I also would like to meet those students in Hogwarts who belong to your faction. I guess I was hoping for an introduction," he added quickly, with a nervous smile.

To his relief, the wand-tip brightened again. As did the look on Lord Greengrass' face.

"Ah, yes. Sometimes it is easy to forget how careful with our wording spells like these force us to be. I dare say such an introduction will be easy enough to arrange, young man. It will be up to your own efforts to make a good impression afterwards. However, I believe I have heard enough. Now to end the spell, draw the lightened wand back to your throat, and say '_dixi veritas_'.

Well, that had not been too hard. The wand-light had gleamed steadily throughout, until his minor blunder at the end. Because those were his honest opinions, though some of them were of fairly recent make. Many were the result of his talks with Phineas or Dora, or else insights resulting from the trip to Spain. Harry Potter might once have disagreed with some points, or held no particular opinion on others. But Harry had been a simpler guy. He had not been forced to look so much at the other side of things, or consider how to put his ideas across. He'd rarely worried much about convincing people.

And honestly? He was no great loss. Far too often, he had no idea what he was doing. Far too much, he had simply gone along with what others wanted or expected of him. But that version of Harry Potter had started to die the day Sirius Black fell through the veil. The day when he lost what he saw as the last link to his parents, and tried to cast an Unforgivable out of grief and despair and hate. Harry Potter the Gryffindor had lost the last shreds of innocence on that horrible day.

Corvus Black the Slytherin would be able to deal far better with that particular loss. Because loss of innocence didn't mean you also had to lose your way, and go bad. That only happened when you couldn't face reality, which was that … things were … the way they were. You moved on, and did the best with what you had. And tried to turn it into something better, of course, he thought while absent-mindedly running a thumb over the runes permanently carved into the back of his hand.

Certainty. Success. A light in the darkness, where-ever you go.

And speaking of success … he returned his attention to Lord Greengrass, who was regarding him with a pensive air. Almost ... wistfully. Corvus raised his eyebrows at him, and gave him a rather lopsided, hopeful smile.

"Did my words manage to dispel your doubts then, Señor?"

The other wizard finally gave a sigh, and rubbed a hand across his brow as if chasing away a headache.

"If it were only up to me … I would be quite willing to agree. However, since you seek the leader of the neutral _faction_ as your representative, I still have to consult with my fellows. We are not a tyranny, after all. I expect they will want to see you questioned first. However, I believe I should be able to convince them. In any case, I will let you know during the recess after your … how did you put it? Circus show?"

"I expect the Wizengamot will want to see me jump through flaming hoops, at the very least," he joked lightly, his voice mocking. "And in that case, I shall simply have to hope for a favourable verdict, Lord Greengrass. But as I said, I intend see the Black family honour restored. No matter the outcome of today," he concluded with an earnest look.

Well. From the almost fond smile he received back, he suspected he might have made a friend today, at least.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: Yeah, new chapter. Finally. After far too long. I am ever so sorry about that, and I hope I have now managed to sort out what kept me from writing. However, all I can say is I will try my best, and wish me luck. But hopefully my updating speed will improve from now on. At least the last chapter had ended on a fairly satisfying note instead of some evil cliffhanger. There isn't much to say about this one, aside from: I had actually, honestly intended to cover the Wizengamot meeting. Only then of course my _dear_ characters wanted to talk and talk instead. I hope you like them anyway.

It always amazes me how many truly positive reviews this story gets, so many thanks again, both to the new readers and the recurrent reviewers! It is good to see my explanations on how the Fidelius works apparently made sense. And well, I had not originally intended for Corvus to be quite that political-minded, but he does appear to tend that way, doesn't he? I hope I also managed to satisfy the 'bad Moody, how dare you!' crowd … that part was quite a lot of fun to write.


	30. The Truth about the Truth

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"That is an unusual combination for a wand-core, if I may say so, Mr. Black," Lord Greengrass commented as he smoothly fell into step beside Corvus, who was slipping his wand back into its sheet. A wand very different from the one registered last year for Harry Potter, and thus another distinction between them.

He gave the other man a wry smile. "Desde luego. However, if there is one thing I have learned from the Spanish, then it is that passion and intensity can go hand in hand with control and subtleness," he offered calmly, his mind conjuring images of graceful Flamenco dancers with their precise, intense movements.

Lord Greengrass chuckled lightly in response. "Yes, indeed. A fresh outlook will do all of us good," he added somewhat cryptically.

Corvus raised his eyebrows at him, about to question that statement, but just then he was distracted by a group of people blocking the way towards the main lifts. They were clustered around someone whose attention they were clearly trying to get, and arguing rather loudly.

"Ah, how fortuitous. I can present you to our esteemed Minister," his companion said with a slightly predatory smile when they got closer. "Do come along, Mr. Black."

Pressing forward, he approached the group with Corvus obediently following behind. He unconsciously slowed his steps, because of a sudden onset of nerves. Meeting the Minister before the session, and in the company of Lord Greengrass no less, was indeed fortuitous. It would give just the right impression. On the other hand, _he_ had to give the right impression as well. Which involved not dissolving into a nervous puddle, and keeping his cool. Right. Clouds. Heron. Certainty. And so on.

By now the group had fallen silent, and everybody turned to look at Corvus as he took the last steps towards them. They were all mustering him intently, and he could almost see himself rise in their estimation. Simply because of the damn fancy clothes and his careful styling. Appearance and image, two things of such great importance, for all they were really so very superficial. He wanted to sigh dramatically and roll his eyes at them. He did neither. Instead he mustered them back, with the faint, charming smile that he was becoming so well practised in.

The smile which was as carefully designed as the rest of his appearance. No detail left to chance there, either.

One of those details was the decision to leave off the glamour on his scar today, as they were unsure if it would keep up under the heavy attention he was bound to receive. Instead they had disguised it through the application of heavy duty make-up, the kind used in theatre and film productions. After studying a book of beauty charms for the fashionable witch, Remus had come up with a spell which would hopefully prevent the stuff from smearing or coming off.

They'd also teased a few shorter locks of hair to fall over his brow, creating lines of shadows which would confuse the eye, especially from a distance. The trick had been to make them look natural, despite the fact they were pretty much held in place by yet another charm. Remus had almost despaired about getting it right, until Dora arrived, rolled her eyes and all but shoved him out of her way. She'd taken a mere couple of minutes to sort Corvus out, and even added another charm that made everything look perfect with practised ease.

"You do realise I'm a professional at disguising things, you … men, you?" she'd snapped at them when they professed their amazement at her skill. "Being trained for undercover work involved more than using my own Metamorph abilities. Honestly ..." she sniffed, with a disappointed look at Remus.

Remus wisely opted for looking sheepishly apologetic. Corvus simply thanked her and gave her a grateful smile.

She'd smiled back at him and automatically reached out to tousle his hair. Only a quick grab from Remus had prevented her from messing up the rest of Corvus' careful hair-do … and left the two of them staring at each other for a breathless moment. They were both blushing when Remus slowly let go of her arm again. It had been rather amusing to watch, and even more fun to tease her about it later while they walked through Diagon Alley. Especially since Moody kept throwing her knowing glances, when he wasn't outright leering and making suggestive comments, that is.

Which provoked even more blushes. It also made for a great distraction.

But right now he needed to focus. Focus on the man who had emerged from the back of the group to hold out a hand for him to shake. A man who he'd just been introduced to, and who happened to be the new Minister of Magic. Rufus Scrimgeour was, according to the adults, still a bit of an unknown. At least no-one had any idea how he would deal with the mess left by Fudge. Being formerly head of the Auror office, he would hopefully act differently. He certainly looked stern and grim, and far less like a politician than his predecessor.

However, whether he would be more help than hindrance remained to be seen. Unfortunately, he didn't appear to trust Dumbledore very much, which was apparently one reason for Corvus' current situation. The other was, of course, his _dear_ mother and equally suspect unknown father. Still, having Dumbledore submit his emancipation request had definitely raised both interest and suspicion. Therefore it was very fortuitous indeed that after their shared lunch, it had been so very natural for Corvus to be taken to the Ministry by Lord Greengrass.

"Buenas tardes, Señor Minister," he said politely, turning up the charm a notch. It would not do to come across as too smarmy, either. "How do you do?"

"How do you do, Mr. Black," Scrimgeour replied, with a hard glint in his eyes. "If I may say so, you do look remarkably like your mother."

Corvus froze his smile, and looked back just as hard. "So everybody keeps telling me. I must take your word for it, since I have never met her."

"As you say," the Minister agreed in a slightly doubtful tone.

"I believe that is what you wish to determine today, is it not?" he replied, and he could not help sounding slightly mocking. "I trust I can let the _Veritaserum_ speak for me, at least?"

"Presumably so. I will not have ..."

What he would not have remained unsaid however, as Scrimgeour suddenly noticed the person that had turned up silently at his elbow.

"Albus," he said sharply, after giving a harsh little laugh. "Right on time to rescue your young protégé?"

"Good afternoon, gentle-witches and wizards," the headmaster greeted the assembled group calmly, nodding amiably at everybody. "But no, Rufus, I am merely on my way to the chambers. I believe we should all get under-way, in fact," he added, putting on a show of pulling out an ornate pocket-watch and peering at it intently.

"Right," the Minister barked out, looking between the old wizard and Corvus, who had simply returned the greeting calmly with an inclination of his head and not reacted otherwise to Dumbledore's appearance. "Let's get a move on then," he commanded with another glance at Lord Greengrass, who continued to stand right at Corvus' side. A hint of uncertainty passed through the hard eyes. Excellent.

Really excellent. This couldn't have gone better if they'd tried to set it up. A short encounter, with little chance to mess it up, but it should hopefully have left the Minister with the right impression. Now if only he didn't mess up the rest ...

Corvus couldn't keep from worrying as they took the lifts and went along a long corridor. It didn't help his nerves that nearly everyone they met on the way would turn to look after him and stare. Maybe he shouldn't have left his hair so long. But he'd started to like the long black curls. They were … dramatic. Something which went so nicely with his new persona, and was so very unlike Harry. Ah, well. He rubbed his thumb over the seal ring, and straightened his back even more.

Let them stare. Let them whisper. It wasn't as if he was unused to that kind of thing. And he _was_ Lord Black, no matter what they decided today.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"For the … record? I protest this treatment," he said softly but clearly. "I must submit, I am told. But consider what you ask me … for it may well be _you or yours_ in my place the next time."

There was some uneasy stirring amongst the members of the Wizengamot at hearing his words. Concerned glances were directed at the man who had come to stand before Corvus, a small bottle full of a clear liquid held ready. Corvus gave the bottle a cold look but obediently opened his mouth. Three drops fell onto his tongue, and the other wizard watched him like a hawk to make sure they took effect. Which they did soon enough, and he was declared ready for his interrogation.

"What is your name?"

"Corvus Black."

For all that he had been prepared for the question, he still wasn't able to avoid a slight delay. Which didn't go unnoticed.

"Why did you hesitate, Mr. _Black_?"

"I haven't used that name for long."

"What were you called instead?"

"I cannot tell."

"Why not?"

"I cannot tell."

He felt no desire to say Harry Potter. But he couldn't say what else Corvus Black would have been called before, since they had deliberately not thought up any other name for him. So he really couldn't tell. But it was a good thing they had tested him with _Veritaserum_ again, after the _Fidelius_. And that he had a fair bit of practise with trances by now. Even so it wasn't easy. The potion couldn't force him to tell the hidden truths … but feeling as sluggish as he did, it was hard to find an answer fast enough when it didn't come up by itself.

He heard the whispering in the galleries as he sat there, waiting in drugged calmness for the next question. His interrogator was frowning.

"What is your name," the man suddenly repeated sharply.

"Corvus Black."

This time the answer was instantaneous. The frown cleared somewhat, though not altogether.

"To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Black wishes to protect the identity of the people who were so kind as to take him in and raise him as their own. I assume this august body will be able to accept his reasoning?" Dumbledore interjected calmly at this point. "You also need to take into consideration that he knows nothing of the circumstances of his birth and was raised in ignorance of his true ancestry."

"If Mr. Black lived under another name, the hesitation is understandable. And if he is under an oath not to reveal that name," the interrogator allowed with a shrug. "Then he cannot be forced. I suppose we do not need to know any past assumed names. State your date of birth," he continued with the next question.

"The twelfth of July, 1980."

"How can he know that so exactly, if he doesn't know anything about his birth?"

The question was shouted out by a sneering, hard-faced individual seated amongst the hardcore traditionalists. The interrogator looked irritated at the interruption, but repeated the question anyway. "How do you know your date of birth?"

"The Black family tapestry says so."

What a good thing they had gone over all the likely questions, and worked out ways for him to tell the truth. For a given value of truth, in this case, since the tapestry only said so because he'd transfigured the date. Still, at the moment it was the truth. Sort of.

"Where did you grow up, Mr. Black?"

"Seville, Spain, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"We travelled a lot."

Thank you Inez, for your memories. Of living in Seville, and travelling a lot. Because since he had memories of living there … even though they were not originally his own memories … it was the truth again. After a fashion, at least. It was fortunately also far easier to answer fluidly if the man addressed him as Mr. Black. Hopefully he would continue to do so. Or ask questions which were easier to answer. Less in conflict with the memories under _Fidelius_.

"Who is your mother?"

"Bellatrix Black."

"Shouldn't that be _Lestrange_?" someone yelled.

"Your mother is Bellatrix Lestrange?" he was asked, after a moment.

"Yes."

"Is your mother Bellatrix Black?"

"Yes."

The interrogator shrugged and threw up his hands in a gesture which managed to convey that he had given up wondering about the slight oddity of some of the responses he was getting.

"Have you ever met your mother?"

"No."

_Corvus Black_ had certainly never met her. For that matter, neither had Harry Potter, if you were very finicky about it. At least nobody had introduced them, and the only thing they had exchanged had been a few taunts and curses. Trying to _crucio_ somebody possibly didn't exactly count as _meeting_ them. At least, not in any polite sense of the word.

"Who is your father?"

Silence.

"Who is your father?" the question was repeated, with rather more insistence.

"I don't know."

And the whispers were back.

"You had a blood-test done at Gringotts?"

"Yes."

"It did not show your father's name?"

"There was a curse."

Take that, Wizengamot. Of course, there was no curse, but since the goblin had _called_ it a curse … it was no lie. Fortunately the answer seemed acceptable. Well, the goblin had implied they had to hide parentages occasionally, so the 'curse' was obviously pretty well established. Wizards sure were horribly gullible at times.

Though the price for the answer was high. Too high, really. Because this very morning they had done one final piece of _Fidelius_. One to hide a single fact of his new identity. Because that question was almost assured … and he could not risk telling the truth. Neither the old, nor the new one. Both were equally dangerous.

But it had clearly surprised Snape how much Corvus had come to cherish those recent memories of being a son to him.

Or how much of a feeling of emptiness and loss they left behind. There really had been a big parent-shaped hole in his life. Which had been emptied again for now, and he hated every second of it. Only the knowledge it was merely temporary, and that Snape would restore those memories afterwards, made it bearable. That, and drowning it in clouds. They made it possible to simply not think about _his father_, and that currently his emotions were once more those of a lonely orphan.

Of course they were taking a risk with restoring them. After all, it was possible someone else might get to him with _Veritaserum_, like Mad-Eye had. However, it was equally possible the same effect would strike again which had befuddled Moody's question on Sunday. At least as long as part of him continued to think of the Potters as his parents, which would hopefully continue for long enough. Because once he could openly claim Severus Snape as his father, the question became quite pointless anyway.

Anyway, for it to be a real life-threatening danger would involve a lot of things going wrong all at once, so it wasn't that big a risk. And he simply couldn't bear having that taken from him. He couldn't face feeling so alone anymore, now that he finally knew what it felt like to have someone who was there for him. Who _wanted_ him. And the feeling was directly tied to the fact itself. It was pretty hard at the moment as it was, and he'd avoided thinking about it ever since they had performed the _Fidelius_.

It had also been hard to hear Lord Greengrass talk so fondly of his daughters. He'd been occluding heavily at that point, trying to forget he had a father, because all he'd felt then was loss. Losing his friends had been bad enough, but somehow this was far worse.

Perhaps because it was like an unhealed wound he'd born all his life, which had finally been healed … only to be ripped open again.

So risk or not, he needed his father back.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

"Do you serve … Lord Voldemort, also called You-know-who, He-who-must-not-be-named, or the Dark Lord in way?"

Well, they were thorough at least. And done with the personal questions, apparently. He felt the relief even through the haze of the _Veritaserum_.

"No."

"Do you have any intention of following him, or your mother Bellatrix Lestrange née Black?"

"No."

Oh yes, they were thorough. The questions continued like that for a while longer, until the interrogator finally declared himself satisfied, and no further questions were suggested by the auditorium either. Not that all of them had been passed on, fortunately. Some would have been quite unacceptable. However, Corvus' answers had still firmly established him as someone with no intention of following Voldemort or working with him … at the moment at least. Which would hopefully satisfy anybody but the Dark faction.

Fortunately, nothing had been asked which would have made him state directly that he intended to work _against_ Voldemort. Which left some room to manoeuvre so the Dark Lord would hopefully try to turn him first, instead of going straight for attempts at murder. Because if Corvus died … well, look who would stand to inherit the title after him. And _dear_ cousin Draco was unfortunately very much in Voldemort's pocket, no matter if he was so willingly or not. Therefore it was far better to at least appear approachable, given that he would be in the same house as far too many Dark sympathisers.

After all, accidents happened. Better if no-one was too badly tempted to _make_ them happen.

.

oOoOoOoOo

His interrogation had barely finished when heated debates started up amongst the auditorium, many people leaving their seats to congregate into groups. He could feel their stares following him as he was led away, still feeling woozy, towards a side-chamber to wait out the effects of the _Veritaserum_. And he was very grateful for Moody's patented glare, which kept the vultures at a distance. Even so there were multiple flashes of cameras, and questions shouted at him. He could only hope he didn't look too dreadful at the moment, feeling as disoriented as he did.

He would have to pose for the journalists and their cameras later, and make some kind of statement. But first he had to address the Wizengamot. He couldn't suppress a shiver, and gratefully leaned against Dora's shoulder when she put an arm around him.

Because this whole rigmarole wasn't just about him and his emancipation. It was really about positioning. For the new Minister, and his stance versus Voldemort as well as those led by Dumbledore. Corvus' words could potentially influence more than just his own fate. If he got it right, he might manage to open some eyes as well. Which was an altogether daunting task.

So now more than ever, he had to use the outsider's angle.

That would allow him to point subtle fingers at their shortcomings and blind points, while maintaining a stance of neutrality. He could insert ideas under the cover of saying 'oh, but we do this differently where I come from'. If he tendered his criticism hidden under apologetic behaviour for his supposed ignorance of British customs, he might get away with a lot.

But he might also mess up royally, and turn everybody against him, and give them all the wrong ideas.

After a while he'd managed to work himself into a right state, despite Dora's best efforts to keep him together. Even Moody's rousing 'common laddie, you did well so far!' merely got a grimace. Because doing well _so far_ was simply not good enough, and was no guarantee he would continue to do so. And the damn worries percolating through his thoughts annoyingly refused to quit and leave him alone …

Of course there were always clouds, but filling his mind with them unfortunately didn't help with thinking clearly.

"Corvus, dear? Lord Greengrass wants to talk with you," his cousin's words roused him from the near stupor he'd fallen into. "I'm sorry my Lord, I think the nerves finally caught up with him. He's barely turned sixteen, you know."

"I do realise that, Auror Tonks," he heard the man say in an irritated tone of voice. "I am more concerned about the unprofessional conduct of one of our Auror corps ..."

"Ah, yeah, but … well, I guess it's not widely known, but he is actually my _cousin_. My mother is one of the Black sisters ..."

"Oh, of course, I do remember the scandal it was at the time. My apologies Auror Tonks, I did not make that connection. Still ..."

"I understand, sir. The dear boy was just so out of it. The _Veritaserum_ did quite a number on him, too."

How mortifying. At least Dora had found an excuse for him being in such a state. Right. Time to pull himself together. Because time was clearly up. He sat up straight again, blinking his eyes repeatedly, and gave Lord Greengrass an apologetic smile.

"Perdoname, Señor. But as my cousin said, this is all a bit much. I … am not used to speaking in front of so many," he explained softly, letting the other wizard see how very nervous he was for a few long moments.

Some battles could be won by honesty and directness, too. Sometimes, showing weakness could be a weapon. Especially against a Slytherin. Something most of them would probably not understand, because they were more used to bargaining from a position of strength. Deliberately exposing yourself in order to rouse sympathy would not occur to them, given how arrogant so many of them were. But it all depended on the situation. And in this one, he could clearly see the sympathy rise in the eyes of the older Lord, and the following respect when Corvus put on the mask of the heron again.

Calm. Collectedness. Certainty.

"De todas maneras, I suspect you did not come by just to see me panic, Señor," he continued with a wry smile, straightening the collar of his robes and looking at the other expectantly.

"No, of course not. And a certain amount of stage fright is only to be expected. It is after all your first big circus show."

The man was smiling quietly, clearly amused at their private joke.

"Oh, yes. We have quite the turnout, as well. Though I think it is not only for my sake ..."

"Not really, you are right about that. With a new Minister in office, and an old threat once again confirmed to be on the rise … now is the time to make new alliances, and make sure of old ones."

"And may I expect a new alliance from you, Lord Greengrass?" Corvus asked him frankly. "Or were your compatriots not convinced by my," he sighed and grimaced slightly. "Performance?"

"Fortunately, between my efforts and the _Veritaserum_ they were indeed convinced. Therefore, if you still wish it, I agree to be your proxy. We can sort out the details of it later."

Well, that was at least one worry gone.

.

oOoOoOoOo

Time for this show to start. It only remained to be seen if he would be remembered as one of the exotic exhibits, or the ringmaster. Well, either would do really, as long as he wasn't one of the clowns to be laughed at ...

"Esteemed members of the Wizengamot, honoured Minister, Chief Warlock," he said clearly, given them all a respectful half-bow. Putting into play another piece of advice Phineas had given him: remember they are mostly rather old and set in their ways. They thrive on respect, so when you tell them something to shatter their world, be respectful as anything about it. That way they will first respond to your manners, and second to what you are actually _saying_.

"I was asked to further speak to you, and respond to your questions in my own words, now that I am no longer forced by a potion," he continued, with an inviting gesture. "So if any of you have concerns which were not satisfied or addressed earlier, or wish to hear my opinion on any particular matter ..."

"I want to know where you truly stand regarding You-know-who and his Death Eaters! At least one of your parents is one, maybe both!" an irascible looking old lady shouted immediately.

"But what would I want with your Dark Lord?" he asked in return, addressing his words directly to the old witch who sat right in the middle of the Light supporters.

"_Our_ Dark Lord?"

"Perdoname, I meant the _British_ Dark Lord. Because in Spain, he is only … news. A rumour. Something one reads about in the papers. Not something we feel concerns us overly much … at least not yet."

"And what would you do if he wanted to take over on the continent as well?"

"So far he appears to be concentrating on his homeland. And you must understand, my Lords and Ladies, that many in Spain are somewhat … contemptuous of the British. They think the reason why he is so troublesome to you, is because you are weak. That it would not be a real problem to them. Some may even believe you deserve him."

"How dare you say that!"

Well, he certainly had everyone's attention, and not necessarily in a good way. Time to direct the ire he had roused away from him.

"I merely repeated what I heard. I did not say I agree. However, you must remember there has been a lot of bad blood in the past between the two nations. Thus they hold opinions that may be … unflattering. And yes, I am aware I am really English by birth. Yet not by raising. But I can see both viewpoints. I realise he is a danger. One that will not go away by itself if you ignore it, no matter how much some of you may wish to do so."

He looked around, trying to gauge the effect of his words. "But the Spanish are also somewhat right to fear him less. Because there are far fewer who would follow him over there," he continued, throwing another bone of contention at their feet. One which would hopefully allow him to lead over to what he had prepared to say.

"What makes you believe that, Mr. Black?" the Minister himself interjected. He actually appeared interested in the answer.

"Because in Spain, it is not so much the right _blood_ which matters, but instead good breeding."

"There is no difference," one old gentleman spat at him.

"I beg to differ, my Lord of the Wizengamot," Corvus said smoothly. "Because to our mind, breeding is all about being _cultured_. About having the right manners, and observing proper customs. None of which require one to be born to pure-blooded parents only. It can be acquired through schooling, and following the example of others. It is about _education_, rather than birth."

"In addition, do not forget the Gitanos are an integral part of wizarding Spain. They are proud, and hold strong magic … but they could not care less about pompous titles or money. They teach us a different lesson, you see. That magic needs to be free, and not constrained. That the spirit is more important than the sterile form. And thus … Spain would not fall quite as easily to the dogma of blood-purity. At least this is what I believe," he added self-depreciatingly.

"But here? You, all of you, undervalue the half-blooded and the muggle-born. You may protest, but do you truly give them the same chance? Many of them could be great, if they were nourished and not merely fed the crumbs from the tables of the pure-bloods. They could shine, and help you fill this country with the light of magic. Because _they_ do not take it for granted. For a _birth-right_," he all but spat the words, his tone suddenly venomous. "Something which makes you inherently better, even if you never do anything worthwhile with it."

"But the muggle-born? They are a blank canvas. One that could become the most astounding painting, a master-piece … if you bothered with them. Which you do not. They are far too muggle, you say, but whose fault is that? Theirs? Or yours, for not attempting to show them your world is worth changing for? Do you give them the tools, the instruction, the education necessary to change, and to appreciate the world of magic?"

Oh yes, he had their undivided attention now. He felt strangely disconnected, knowing they were all listening to _him_. And not because he was some famous celebrity, but because they found his words interesting. Almost compelling, judging by some of the faces he could make out.

"From what I have observed for myself, or been told by others, I fear not. Instead you deny them at every turn. For lacks which are caused by _your system_. You accuse them of not fitting in, when you never teach them how. They could enrich your world … instead you show insularity by feeling threatened by them. You keep them at arms length, and then wonder why they refuse to embrace their new lives. But I digress," he said, his voice suddenly calm and controlled again.

"I should not criticise, as I am as yet an outsider here. Indeed, I beg your pardon if I have insulted anyone. That was not my intention. I have simply been taught all my life to see things from different viewpoints. It is something I value greatly. But your Dark Lord appears to follow a very narrow-minded and repressive vision. So far I have not heard anything that would make me want to be his follower."

There. He was rather proud of that last bit. Because it contained within a few words not only a reassurance to those against Voldemort, but also a subtle invitation to the Dark Lord. And even if it turned out too subtle in itself, then his father the spy could still use it as a basis to plant further hints later.

"One thing I believe in most firmly, however, is tradition, and upholding what our forbears built. Because we cannot progress without firm roots to anchor us. I do not think the muggles far less than us, or worthless. But they have no magic. Their lives are necessarily far _different_ from ours. Becoming too much like them in our way of living… would ultimately destroy the magic, too. We all need to cherish and embrace the magic which makes us different. Which makes us wizards and witches."

He could see even some of the traditionalists nodding to his words now. He couldn't honestly claim he really cared much about traditions he knew little about, but it was just the thing to say to make them happy with him. It would also reinforce the impression that the door wasn't totally closed. That he might be open to Voldemort's advances, provided they were put to him the right way.

Though he would make it clear there were some things he would not put up with.

"Moreover, what could torturing and killing muggles possibly achieve? Aside from risking exposure and loss of any good-will they may have for us. And I believe it would be very unwise if they learned about us. I fear what they could do, if we became exposed. They are no longer the hopeless savages many of you remember from your own youth. They have evolved, and multiplied, and they could now be very dangerous to us. Especially if they had the assistance of estranged wizards, who could help them _find us_."

"So if you continue to treat the muggle-born as inferior, you raise them to be a potential threat instead of an asset," he concluded with a gesture of finality. "It is ultimately in your hands what they will be."

There was a long moment of silence after he had finished … and then someone started clapping. Others took it up, and before he knew it he was being applauded rather enthusiastically. Him. Applauded. By most of the Wizengamot. It was … scary. Very scary. Because he had just criticised them, and pointed out their short-comings. So why were they acclaiming him? Unless they were so impressed with the form, that the content had not quite sunken in? Which was a scary idea, too, but …

At the moment it did not matter. They approved of him, either because of what he said, or how he said it. He'd worry about the specifics later, and capitalise on the simple fact now.

So when the applause died down, he cleared his throat again, and put in the final touches of his appeal.

"However, I will be the first to admit I do not know enough about the political realities of this country, having been raised outside of it. Additionally, I shall be spending most of the next two years finishing my schooling. Entonces, I would like to appoint a proxy for the voting of the Black seat until I can take it up myself properly. Someone who should be acceptable to most of you, who has been one of your number for many years. Someone widely respected."

Whispering had broken out again throughout the ranks of elderly wizards and witches.

"Which hopefully may also make you more … disposed to grant my emancipation at this point in time. De veras, I seek that so I may make my own decisions, and not be forced into anything by _anyone_," he added, stressing the last word. "However, no matter the outcome of your decision now, be reminded I will reach my majority in a year's time in any case."

Because you can only delay it. And put me at risk, of course, since I would require some kind of official guardian without the emancipation.

"Did you have anyone in mind then, Mr. Black?" Dumbledore asked gravely.

"Yes, Chief Warlock. I already discussed the matter with him beforehand. Lord Greengrass, who I believe should be known to all of you as the leader of the moderate faction amongst you, is willing to take up the proxy of House Black."

"Well chosen, Mr. Black, if I may say so. Would anyone here like to contest such an appointment?"

There were several who looked like they wanted to, but decided against it since it would only swing the opinion the wrong way, given they were known extremes. Of course Dumbledore himself had a look of faint disappointment on his face, despite his words. All faked of course, since Corvus knew perfectly well the headmaster approved of the choice. But this was all about appearances.

"Now the Goblin nation has already granted Mr. Black his Lordship status, and he is willing to relinquish his voting rights into known neutral hands. Unless there are any other valid objections to it, I propose we proceed to a vote," Dumbledore continued smoothly. "We could of course continue this debate, but I fear we have further matters to attend to today ..."

The Minister gave a sharp, decisive nod and rose to his feet. "Indeed, Chief Warlock. Let us come to a voting, you have all heard enough," he agreed. A murmur of assent swept through the robed ranks, and people started taking out their wands.

Corvus watched with bated breath as those wands were lifted and came alight … not all by far, oh no. But enough, quite enough. Clearly far more than lit their wands in the following vote against it.

He wanted to collapse in relief, or at least run away and then collapse. Instead he had to endure a parade of well-wishers and assorted people who wanted to be introduced to the new Lord Black. One of them was, to his slight surprise, the Minister himself. Who was acting far more relaxed now, but also as if he found Corvus to be something of a puzzle. Well, he probably was, coming from seemingly nowhere, and with such novel ideas in his luggage.

The parade also included most of the neutrals led by Lord Greengrass himself. Fortunately all he had to do was make the appropriate polite noises, and if he looked slightly overwhelmed, well it had been a stressful affair. But nobody seemed offended by his increasing distraction, and eventually he was allowed his escape.

An escape which was short-lived, as they were waylaid by the press on their way out.

So he dutifully posed for their cameras, putting on his best charming smile. He ought to thank Mrs. Black for all the practise she had given him in smiling charmingly while he really wanted to grit his teeth and scream in frustration. He also gave a short statement that yes, the Wizengamot had allowed his emancipation, which meant he was now officially Lord Black. Lord Greengrass would be his proxy until his majority, and yes, he would be attending Hogwarts soon.

And sorry, no comments about You-know-who, or his mother, nor where he had been until now, which house he expected to be sorted into, what he wanted to do after school, where he was living, and did he have a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, or significant other of _any kind_, for that matter. And really, he currently had no plans aside from finishing his education, and learning more about wizarding Britain.

In the end, faced with their never-ending questions, he resorted to an apologetic, demure smile and let an obviously impatient and irritated Moody orchestrate their get-away. After all, if he could delegate being short-tempered and sharp-tongued to someone else, he himself would appear even more charming by contrast. At least Moody could be relied upon to play the 'bad cop' routine to perfection.

He probably didn't even _know_ how to do the 'good cop' one.

.

oOoOoOoOo

The boy was clearly on his last legs when he stumbled from the floo, something he had not done since he had discovered that neat little trick with the clouds. And the way he almost collapsed against Severus when he came to the rescue spoke volumes … but so did the happy smile on Corvus' face. It seemed things had gone well then.

A fact confirmed by Nymphadora when she followed moments later, nearly tripping over both of them. Together they managed to get his son upstairs, and with the help of an equally curious Remus they soon had the boy in bed, despite the early hour. Fortunately Dora then took Remus aside to fill him in, leaving Corvus alone with his father.

"So. Glad it is over?" Severus asked as he handed his son a plate piled high with sandwiches and pickles, courtesy of Winky who had been eager to whisk something up for her master. The little elf-girl was fast becoming quite attached to the boy. Not surprising, with the way he was treating her.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how very much," Corvus said with a happy little sigh, biting into his first sandwich and munching away as if he was half-starved. Which was patently not the case, but far better than him losing his appetite.

"Well, you should not have to appear before the Wizengamot again in the foreseeable future, since you managed to convince Lord Greengrass to do it for you," he continued, letting the pride he felt seep into his voice. His reward was to see the boy's smile grow wider. "I am rather curious how the whole affair went, I must admit."

"You can take a look at the memory if you want," his son offered between bites. "If ..."

"If what?" Severus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If you first remove the _Fidelius_. Please," the boy added, his happy expression fading away. "It's making me feel very … confused, now I've started to think about it again. Before it mostly felt lonely and … " he broke off, and looked away uncertainly. "But now … especially now that I'm here with you … I just want it gone! Please!"

"All right," he agreed, taken aback by the increasing intensity of the boy's distress. "Finish up and then ..."

"I don't think I can eat another bite before … " Corvus interrupted him, setting the plate down in his lap and wringing his hands. "This is actually quite disorienting, you see. Because I know you are, but my feelings say otherwise, and I _know_ I don't want to feel like this, and it's somehow … it's like bits of me are pulling into different directions."

"Hmm. That may be another reason why it fell out of usage ..."

"It wasn't like this before, but then I was trying hard not to think about it. I guess I've started to fight it, maybe?"

"Possibly. It would likely not be an issue if it was purely internal, but since it was done by someone else … all right. Put the plate aside then and look at me."

Within seconds he found himself staring into his son's dark, dark eyes. So like his own. And so full of the urgent need to feel like his son once more. Something neither of them would have expected a few weeks ago. But now … he did not stop his hands from reaching out to gently cup the boy's face between them, as he fell into those dark eyes to undo the _Fidelius_ … of himself. Of being a father to someone he had been so wrong about, and consequently had wronged so much.

There was a strange, bitter-sweet pain in his chest when the distress in those eyes turned to relief. Nor did he resist when the teenager once again all but collapsed against him. His hands, seemingly still with a life of their own, came to rest around those slender shoulders, which were shaking slightly.

"There, there," he muttered inanely, feeling out of his depth. But not displeased. Not at all. He would not readily admit it to anybody, but he was quite … content with the situation.

"Sorry," Corvus finally whispered a couple of minutes later, pulling back and wiping a hand across his eyes. "But everything was so very stressful today, and then this on top," he continued, sounding rather embarrassed.

"Not to worry," Severus told him with a faint smile. "I believe it may be part of my job description."

"What? Having me get snot all over your robes?"

Clearly the boy was feeling better again, if he could joke about it.

"At least I was spared the 'spit mushy peas all over my robes phase'," he pointed out with an amused look. "Though I can probably look forward to you throwing up all over my shoes with your first hang-over eventually."

"Padre!" the boy was clearly torn between amusement and further embarrassment. "I'll make sure to aim somewhere else!"

"Please do," Severus agreed drily. "If you manage to miss me altogether, I may even provide you with a hangover cure."

"Hmm, I'll have to keep that in mind," Corvus said with a wry smile, sitting back against his small mountain of pillows … mostly green pillows, Severus noted … and picking up his plate once more.

"Good. Now finish your dinner, I wish to see for myself what has you in such high spirits."

.

oOoOoOoOo

After viewing the highlights of his son's day, Severus had to admit the high spirits were well deserved. He had easily managed to surpass his performance with the Order. The boy was pure intensity when he spoke. Corvus' experiences in Spain seemed to have shown him how to express his feelings without being ruled by them. And Señora Moralez' memories had apparently helped refine a natural talent at oration, and furthermore given him something to base it in.

"You were amazing, brat of mine."

The brat almost glowed at the compliment. Why, oh why, could they not have discovered their relationship earlier … everything might have been so different.

"I couldn't have pulled it off without her memories. Remind me to send the Señora a thank-you present. Without the knowledge of how wizarding Spain is by contrast …"

"Yes, I can see how that would be essential for the way you presented your ideas," Severus agreed, silently vowing to add to such a present. It was highly deserved.

"And she gave me some memories of rather impassioned speeches. The Spanish tend to them, I think," Corvus said with a grin. "There were a few sessions of what must be the Spanish Wizengamot, or its equivalent. They had some interesting shouting matches in it, too."

"Though after that speech … I do not know if the Dark Lord will still believe you can be subverted ..."

"Tell him you heard me have a confrontation or two with Order members about some kinds of magic which are classified as Dark. That I believe magic should be far less restricted. He may think he can corrupt me that way."

"Indeed, that could work," Severus agreed thoughtfully. "He is quite aware of the effect true Dark magic can have on people … and if I make you out as still fairly naive in this regard … "

"And then once he sees me sorted into Slytherin ..." the boy added with a suggestive shrug.

"That as well. I can also point out to him you only advocated educating the muggle-born so they would fit in and stay. Essentially, you simply stressed the importance of magic and education … over blood. And since he is a half-blood …"

"Yes. Don't forget he was a top-student while at Hogwarts. That should be something he is proud of, shouldn't it?

Severus nodded absent-mindedly in agreement, his mind busy with figuring out the best way to put everything to the Dark Lord. If he presented it from _Albus_' viewpoint, an Albus who was dissatisfied with the boy and his desire for independence … as well as dismayed at finding him interested in certain kinds of magic …

Yes, that could work out perfectly.

"I believe I can work it all together so he perceives it as a subtle invitation to explain himself … you all but said it, in fact."

"I tried to leave some ambiguity. Mostly I wanted to sound like someone who really likes the middle ground," Corvus explained, settling more comfortable against his pile of pillows and clearly fighting with a yawn.

"Which you actually do, don't you?"

"Hmm. I guess so. And I liked Lord Greengrass," the boy admitted. "It was nice to see Slytherin can mean something other than ..."

"A slimy snake?"

"I don't think I've _ever_ thought that, Padre," Corvus denied around another yawn. "That was always _Ron_, and since to disagree openly with him usually meant a fight … well. Easier to keep quiet than fight a lost cause. I was more thinking … oh I don't know, cold and selfish, and constantly putting others down. Like most of the students in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad."

"Remember some of them only went along with her so they would not become victims themselves. There is nothing inherently wrong with looking out for your own welfare."

"Well, no," his son agreed dubiously. "It's mostly the way many of them go about it. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. I'll try to be open-minded, though you have to agree _some_ at least are hopeless."

"Unfortunately. However, since Lord Greengrass has agreed to facilitate an introduction to the neutrals … you have an opening to meet people you will hopefully get along with."

"Yeah," Corvus agreed with a sleepy, content smile.

"You appear to have quite impressed him as well. Something to build upon in the future," he added with a warning glance. "With a Slytherin, you cannot rest on past laurels. He will test you, and continue to observe you. No doubt his daughters will do the same, come September. But you have certainly piqued his interest. He would make a good ally, especially if you continue with this trend of being interested in politics."

"Well, I can't say becoming an Auror is still my biggest ambition. If it ever actually was. Partly that was to spite Umbridge. I honestly can't say what I want to do after … after," the boy concluded lamely, with a vague wave of his hand.

"Managing your seat and the Black estate alone should occupy a fair bit of your time," Severus pointed out calmly. "Otherwise … you have two more years of school ahead of you. Attempt to get as much out of your remaining time as you can, and you may yet find something that interests you enough to pursue."

"Sure. And it's not as if I need a job to earn my keep straight out of Hogwarts, is it?"

Severus snorted in amusement. "Hardly. None of us would fault you if all you wanted to do at first is travel and make up for all you lost out on in your," he sighed and looked pained for a moment. "childhood."

"Yeah," Corvus agreed tonelessly. "Not much of one, was it?"

"Not really," he agreed. "However, fortunately, there is little limit on what Lord Black can do … well, after."

Black eyes met black eyes in shared understanding. Because making true plans for the future would have to wait until the Dark Lord was gone.

But there _would_ be an afterwards. He would make sure of it. Because they both deserved one.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: I am not really sure about Corvus' speech, since I fear it is far too polished, but it simply wrote itself this way. I also realise Corvus will at times seem too mature, but unfortunately it has been thirty years since I was sixteen myself. It is therefore easier for me to write the adult perspective, sorry. Also if you take his life so far, add recent events, and most of all the effect the memories from Inez Moralez had on him, I believe that should make him quite ahead of his age-group. Especially now that he is in an environment that encourages and appreciates maturity. And no, that totally was not a dig at Ron Weasley. *Attempts to look innocent and fails abysmally.

As always, many thanks for the lovely reviews. It is especially nice when readers pick up on all the little details, and appear to like even the bits I was not too sure about myself. Of which there are plenty this time. I hope you like them anyway.


	31. Evaluations: Everything is Relative

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Well, you certainly made the papers, Cub," Remus greeted Corvus when he entered the kitchen the next morning, still yawning.

He took a seat across from his teacher, casting a dismayed look at the daily Prophet lying discarded at Remus' elbow. "Joy," he muttered. "Just how bad is it?"

The other wizard chuckled and pushed a cup of steaming tea under Corvus' nose. "Here. That should help you wake up. You were sleeping like a log when I checked in on you earlier."

He gave a weak shrug, cradling the warm cup between his hands and inhaling the bracing steam rising from it. "Hmm. Nerves, I guess. Dunno why, I was really tired, but then it still took me forever to go to sleep last night. Spent ages chasing clouds around," he mumbled around another yawn.

"I am surprised Severus didn't dose you up again," Remus commented lightly.

"He can't give me potions all the time. And I prefer to use them for when it's important. Today is just normal stuff," Corvus replied to the unspoken question, finally taking a long sip from his cup of tea.

"True. Anyway, no it's not too bad. In fact, they seem quite taken with you."

"That's a first then," he growled, staring into the depths of his cup and swirling the milky brown liquid around.

He heard Remus sigh. "I wish there had never been any reason for you to sound so bitter about it, but … "

"Yeah," Corvus agreed tiredly, pushing an errant curl behind his ear and bending down to the little elf who had appeared next to him. "Yes, Winky?"

"What would Master Black like for breakfast?"

"How about some buttered toast with jam for starters, and eggs and bacon afterwards, please? And do we have any orange juice?"

Her big eyes lit up, as they always did when he was pleasantly polite to her, and gave her something to do for him. "Winky will get it for you, Master Black, sir! Right away!"

He heard Remus chuckle again as he sat back up. "I believe you have made a conquest there, Cub. Anyway, have a look for yourself," he said with a smile as he pushed the paper across.

Admittedly the picture on the front page wasn't half bad. He certainly looked smartly dressed, the charming smile was firmly in place, and if his expression had been a bit spacey at that point, it wasn't too noticeable in a newspaper picture. The blazing headline over the photograph was about as lurid as expected: 'A New Black Prince Charming?'. How did they come up with those titles? Though considered objectively, what with the fancy robes and his raven locks, he looked quite a bit like a fairy-tale prince, didn't he?

The title also vaguely reminded him of something, but he was distracted by reading the frankly flattering description of his charming personality. And all the speculations about him. Well, he had not really told them anything concrete, which had certainly served to fire up their imagination. But at least it looked like his charm offensive had worked. Just as his attempt to appear foreign, in an attractive, exotic sort of way. Because while they touched upon his Death Eater mother, that was overshadowed by how obviously impressed they were with his appearance and manners.

All in all, they loved the whole _mystery_ of charming, attractive Corvus Black, who had appeared out of no-where to claim a dubious heritage.

Well, so what if it was all imagery and illusion. It had worked, which was the only thing that mattered. Because this time, he had to make it all work in his favour, and use their fickleness to his advantage. He simply couldn't afford to be painted in any negative light. With his parentage, it would be far too easy to be considered Dark … and that would never do. However, he was learning how to use his image as a weapon, something which naïve, ignorant little Harry Potter had never even considered.

Though really, he'd lived with an enforced false image all his life. First he had been the freaky, delinquent nephew of the stupid Dursleys. From which he had graduated to being the Boy-who-lived, who could not possibly be anything else but the little Gryffindor hero. Well, when he wasn't being cast as the next Dark Lord instead. Or an unstable attention-seeker. None of what people had seen him as had ever been entirely him. So what did it matter if he had to continue behind a mask of sorts?

At least this time he could create his own image, and then use it to further his own agenda. Which was already working, as they had printed his entire speech to the Wizengamot in the political section. As well as a number of reactions to it, which were surprisingly mostly positive. Clearly he had stirred something up. Of course it would die down again, and nothing would really change … for now.

Patience was a virtue he would have to cultivate. Because unless it came by way of a huge shock, it could take forever to change people's thinking.

"Corvus?"

"Ehm, yes?"

"Your toast is getting cold, Cub."

"Oh. Thank you," he said with a grateful smile, quickly picking up a slice and reaching for the butter.

"By the way, you had a fair amount of mail this morning. Mostly it will wait, but I think you should look at this one," Remus said, picking up the top parchment from a sizeable stack.

"What is all that?" Corvus asked, pausing in applying the butter to his toast and eyeing the stack with some consternation. Did some of those scrolls actually have gold edging?

"Well, there are a fair few invitations. Fortunately, you can avoid almost all of them because you are about to go to Hogwarts, and can plead being too busy for the most part. This one, however ..."

"Who is it from?"

"Lord Greengrass. He invited you for lunch next Sunday."

"Ah. Yes, I probably shouldn't turn that one down."

No, that invitation was likely to be quite important.

.

oOoOoOoOo

It was nice to have a bit of a breather. Because not having anything important scheduled for today hardly meant he was allowed to laze about. Ever since breakfast, Remus had alternated running Corvus through various exercises with some last minute revision for tomorrow's reviews with the teachers. It was always busy, busy, hurry, hurry, which left him with this constant nagging feeling that time was steadily dwindling away.

However, not even his current break from training was going to be all that relaxing, because he intended to use it for a talk with Phineas. Which usually meant an inadvertent lesson in how to be a Slytherin, given how exacting his ancestor was. Still, he needed some advice, as well as the old wizard's cooperation on something he might find distasteful …

Well, at the worst it would give him more practise in how to hopefully out-manoeuvre someone.

"So I've been invited by Lord Greengrass ..."

"Which is a good thing, surely? He will wish to finalise the proxy, and introduce you to some of his allies?" his great-something-grandfather pointed out, sounding perfectly happy about it.

Which was fine for the old Slytherin headmaster, he wouldn't be the one who had to go and put on yet another performance for a discriminating audience. Of course, it would also be a chance to already establish himself with some of the Slytherins, because at least the two Greengrass girls where bound to be there. And quite possibly, some of their friends as well.

After all, a lunch invitation to Greengrass manor would be the perfect setting for the introduction the Lord of the manor had promised Corvus. Which meant he had to make a good first impression on the man's family and whoever else had been invited. Because it was highly unlikely the whole affair would be just a simple, relaxed lunch with the family.

But then, not even last Sunday's lunch with the Weasleys had exactly been a simple, relaxed affair. At the moment, the only people he could really relax with were the few who knew the truth about his past.

"I suppose so," he replied reluctantly.

"Will you be going alone?"

Corvus gave a harsh laugh. "Of course not," he scoffed. "Can you imagine them letting me go anywhere unguarded? Besides, Lord Greengrass actually invited Dora as well … she reminded him of the fact she was my cousin yesterday."

"So she is."

That had sounded … oddly non-committal. Possibly deliberately non-committal. The way Snape would sometimes say something he didn't really want to say at all, but had to, because it was important.

Because yes, it was rather important that Dora and her mother were _Blacks_ as well. In fact, aside from Corvus, they were the only Blacks left who were not in Voldemort's pocket. Which put the old headmaster on the spot … what with Andromeda marrying a muggle-born, and Dora being a half-blood. But so was Snape, and Phineas had certainly approved of him. Now how to go about preparing the ground for what he wanted to ask the old wizard ...

"Well, we have until Sunday to prepare for it," he said lightly. "First I have to get through my evaluation tomorrow. And the day after, Dora and I will have to put on a show for my friends. Fortunately we work together really well ..."

"Miss Tonks appears talented," Phineas admitted grudgingly. "For all her clumsiness at times."

"I can never decide whether she does it on purpose or not," Corvus agreed with a soft smile for his cousin. "You do realise she is your direct descendant, too? _Exactly_ like me? And yes, she isn't a pure-blood, but neither am I?"

He could see the old wizard clam up. From the lips pressed tightly together to the way his fingers clenched in a fold of his painted robes. Not to forget the haughty, distant expression on his face.

"Despite that, we both seem … talented? You sure don't appear to mind my father either?" he continued relentlessly.

"Your father is at least a very properly behaved wizard of great accomplishment and wit. He has both power and education … and he is a Slytherin to his core. In short, he has very much overcome whatever impurity his father gave him," Phineas said stiffly.

"But my aunt Andromeda was a Slytherin, too, wasn't she?" Corvus countered. " And likely very properly raised. All she did was fall in love with someone considered improper … someone who was nevertheless a _wizard_. Or would you like to blame her for going against the wishes of a family who threw in their lot with Voldemort and his ilk?" he asked his ancestor with a great deal of sarcasm.

Phineas sighed and looked away with a grimace. Appearing quite uncomfortable, too. Good.

"Do I have to give you the same speech as the Wizengamot, sir?" Corvus went on pointedly. "I had expected better of you, since you seem to approve of both my father and me … and frankly, my blood is not all that much better than Dora's."

"You have made your point, young man," the old wizard finally admitted, with ill grace. "It still goes against the grain. Do not expect me to overthrow the habits of a lifetime with ease. And your cousin," he growled the word with obvious displeasure. "Is still a _Hufflepuff_ who should have picked up far better manners from her mother!"

He couldn't help laugh at that. "So it's having a Hufflepuff in the family you object to?" he asked, oddly delighted at the silliness of it.

"She is also lacks respect, is irreverent, clumsy and as I said, her manners are deplorable!"

"She is also accomplished enough as a _witch_ to become an Auror," he countered. "One who further risks everything going against Voldemort when the Ministry sits on its arse doing nothing!"

"What do you want of me, boy?" Phineas asked, now clearly irritated. "I already admitted to her talent, do not expect me to change my mind on the rest!"

"I … would like to take her and her mother back into the family, sir."

"I cannot actually stop you, if you wish to do this."

"You can refuse to tell me how. Or stop helping me altogether," Corvus pointed out.

"It is … your decision. I will not stand in your way," Phineas replied flatly, with a stony expression. "However … you might wish to wait with such a drastic action."

"Oh? Why?"

"You do intend to keep the upstart heir of Slytherin in some doubts about your loyalties for now? How would you explain taking a blood-traitor and a half-blood back into the family?"

"Well, all right. _That_ is actually a good argument. Just as I couldn't kick out the Malfoys, for the same reason," Corvus mused, shifting restlessly in his chair.

He was coming to talk so often to the portraits, he'd set up a couple of comfortable chairs and a small table across from them. Winky had been delighted to get the spot all scrubbed up for her Master Black, sir. It was almost nice here, now. The thick layer of dust on the banisters and the blackened spider-webs in the chandelier were definitely a thing of the past.

"You should hold off on doing that in any case. At least until you are sure they will not be turned from the upstart … because if they do, they would need sanctuary. Which you could provide them with … and which may well be the deciding factor if they hesitate," Phineas pointed out.

"I guess so," he agreed reluctantly.

Though what did he know, really. Draco had certainly always been happy to sprout pure-blood propaganda. But how he would deal with the pressure of being a newly made Death Eater, with his father in prison and a mother who could do little to protect him from Voldemort … was a good question. As for Narcissa herself, all she seemed concerned with was saving her son. He couldn't fault her for that, could he? His father had told him enough of those two in the last few days that he thought turning them might be possible … if they played their cards right.

And disinheriting them from the Black family was unlikely to be part of a winning hand.

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oOoOoOoOo

Minerva McGonagall was right pleased with the performance of their new transfer student. Though there was something about the teenager himself that was just a bit … off. He was guarded, reserved, and yet so very charming. A charm which he used like a suit of armour. But for all that, he had been oddly … familiar with her. As if he knew her somehow, and was able to predict her reactions. Which was clearly impossible, as foreign as he was. It certainly was puzzling.

She refused to dwell on the oddity, though. It didn't matter, not when she had found someone who showed such a great deal of promise for Transfiguration. Someone who was able to picture the result so clearly, so easily, that he could produce wonderfully detailed results. Sadly enough, his talent appeared to have gone largely unnoticed until now. At least there was no sign he had received any extra training above what one could expect from someone his age. Some of the gaps in his theoretical knowledge were frankly appalling. But then, he had been home-schooled. That could easily explain it.

But the raw talent was there, oh yes.

She would have to make sure to develop it properly.

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Pomona Sprout sighed contentedly. What a _nice_ young man. So polite and charming, but most of all, he clearly loved plants and greenery. Of course he'd not been able to answer all her questions … it was obvious the specialised English vocabulary of Herbology eluded him. And what with having travelled all over the place, actual experience would be a bit sketchy. But she thought the enthusiasm and fondness with which he had described some of his native Spanish gardens utterly adorable.

Overall, Mr. Black had demonstrated he understood his basics. He had also shown both the tender, nurturing care and the ruthlessness of pruning necessary in dealing with growing things. As well as the healthy respect some of her more … temperamental plants required.

He would likely not be her star pupil, but she would not deny him his chance, either.

After all, you never knew when someone would blossom into their own.

.

Filius Flitwick was quite satisfied. He would not call the young Mr. Black a prodigy in Charms, not by a far shot, though he was certainly up to scratch for the advanced class. However, the teenager had a knack of thinking up ways in which spells might be used in a duel. And that had always been a sure-fire way into the heart of an old duelling champion like Filius. Besides, Mr. Black was personable, charming, and seemed not at all put out by having a part-goblin instructor.

Which was obviously another thing which endeared him to Filius.

And he was so eager to learn. Really, it would be a pleasure if this young man found his way into Ravenclaw house, Filius thought contentedly as he watched the raven-haired youth attempt to cast a new charm he'd just been shown. The teenager was starting to frown in slight frustration. Strange. There was something about that expression … and those dark eyes … but then the frown changed into a triumphant smile as the boy finally managed the spell. Which wiped the momentary similarity clear away. Anyway, the very thought was silly.

Though he could not help wonder what Severus would make of this young man …

His colleague had never had much use for _charm_, after all.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Well, Mr. Black, let us talk about your evaluation in Defence against the Dark Arts ..."

"Why are _you_ doing that one, by the way? Has the headmaster not found a teacher again?"

"Oh, but he has," Snape said, his eyes gleaming in obvious amusement. "He is sitting in front of you, in fact."

"Oh. Congratulations then ..." Corvus hesitated, eyeing his father a bit uncertainly. "At least if the rumours are true you've always wanted that post."

"They are … greatly exaggerated. However, my knowledge in the subject is far more than merely adequate, I believe."

"Hmm, I'd say so. You sure know how to duel," his son agreed. "But … you've seen Remus put me through the grinder. You know I taught the DA. And you have seen my O.W.L. scores. So why do you want to evaluate me for this?"

"Well, I don't, actually. However, I am positive the Dark Lord will wish to view my memory of the event ..."

"You mean you are going to _show_ him this?" Corvus interrupted him, feeling highly alarmed.

"Indeed, son of mine. After your display for the Wizengamot, I have every confidence in your acting ability," Snape replied calmly, as if he had not just dropped a bomb on his son. Though it certainly was nice getting a compliment from him. Still ...

"But … but right now? Without any preparation?"

"You always do your best work when put on the spot," his father continued, still so very mildly, with a slightly amused smile. "Besides, that way you will act far more naturally. Do not worry yourself, I have every intention of leading matters in the right direction. One that will allow you to demonstrate a somewhat dubious morality and an interest in the Dark Arts … as well as some knowledge in the area."

"All right, but ..."

"Additionally we do not have to fabricate a very long memory, since the time for my evaluation would obviously be limited. Simply answer me as best as you can, but with an eye to making him believe you somewhat … susceptible to temptation. That should be quite sufficient," Snape stated firmly. "I am positive you will be able to answer my questions well enough to impress him with your knowledge."

"Well, if you're sure I can do this," Corvus said, feeling perfectly nervous. And not particularly reassured by his father's apparent confidence in him.

"Remember he will merely be a second-hand audience," the other wizard pointed out collectedly, rising from his seat behind the desk. "If need be, I can always edit the memory to some extent. He will not notice if there are some missing parts, in case your performance falters."

"All right then ..."

"Ah, and of course," Snape continued with a sly smirk as he walked past his son. "We shall finish my assessment with a short practical test duel … which _will_ end with me temporarily knocking you out."

"Oh, _will_ it?"

"Indeed, since that will allow me to surreptitiously take some of your blood ..."

"So you can test my paternity for him?"

"Obviously. After all, I need a plausible explanation on how I managed to obtain a sample from you."

"Clever."

"So I would like to think, yes. Furthermore, I will at some point test your Occlumency. Do not worry, it will merely be a light probe … just enough that I can show him you are an Occlumens. You will not actually have to defend yourself, but you need to be prepared for it. I want to see clouds, son of mine, and nothing but clouds."

"I guess I can do that. But are you sure Dumbledore and his love of complicated plans isn't rubbing off on you, Padre?" Corvus asked archly, trying to suppress a slightly hysterical giggle.

"Hmm, possibly. However in this case, I prefer to think of it as killing several flies with one blow … and milking this one encounter for all it is worth," Snape replied from the doorway. "Now, _Mr. Black_, who happens to be a stranger to me, if you would kindly prepare yourself? I will re-enter this room in a few moment ..."

Corvus met his father's unwavering dark gaze, letting it ground him and drawing a deep breath. Steeling himself for yet another bloody performance. "Right," he agreed, and shoved anything that was not Corvus Black firmly behind fluffy white clouds, and the calm wings of the heron.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"_Why_ are you just letting me into Potions? I didn't get an Outstanding, you know?" Corvus asked, feeling a tad bewildered.

Not that he minded, of course. Especially not with his nerves still so frazzled after their earlier memory creation session. Snape had declared himself satisfied, but it had been nerve-wracking anyway, knowing Voldemort would get to see the memory of it. So it was a relief to hear his father announce he would get to attend Advanced Potions without being tested further. Yes, Remus had mentioned Snape was going to wave him through. He had simply not really believed it. Because, well, it was _Potions_.

But all right, that reaction was probably more than a little irrational.

Snape looked amused. "Mostly because I shall not be teaching the subject this year, after all. And unlike me, my replacement does allow Exceeds Expectations students into his N.E.W.T.s class. Thus it would be unfair for me to deny you attendance, given you _did_ get that mark. Especially, since you managed it under admittedly unfavourable learning conditions ..." the man appeared decidedly uncomfortable.

"Yes, Padre."

That was all he could really say on the matter. His father knew well enough how much Corvus' lessons in the subject had been … sabotaged. And he had already apologised for it. In the past, he still might have gotten upset about it … but it seemed all rather unimportant now. Besides, it had happened to _Harry_, who was no longer quite real.

"I am sorry, you know. But just like you, unable to change the past."

"I know," he agreed with a wry smile. "As long as you think I can do well enough for the new teacher?"

"You should manage easily. Professor Slughorn, who will take over teaching Potions, tends to have … favourites. He was the teacher before me, in fact he goes back quite a while … and when he likes someone, he goes easier on them. And he should like having _Lord Black_ in his class very much indeed," Snape explained with obvious scorn. "Frankly, it would not surprise me if he wouldn't allow you into his class no matter your abilities, just to have you there."

"You don't think much of him, do you?"

"He is … very different from me. He likes to _collect_ people, and bask in the reflected glory of having discovered talents. Which can be annoying, but is at least somewhat helpful to those students. However, he also panders to influential people, whether they deserve it or not. So be prepared, because he will very likely seek you out. Fortunately, he is only replacing me as Potions teacher, and not as the Slytherin head of house … which he also used to be."

"So I use him if I can, and avoid being used by him?"

"Crudely put, but yes. He will do the same to you, after all. Mind you, he is not a bad man, merely overly … hedonistic. Which is not necessarily such a bad thing either … unless it happens to interfere with any _real_ problems."

"Hmm. I will be careful around him then. Thanks for the warning,"

"I also wish for you to have this," Snape added, sliding a text book across the table which clearly had seen better days.

It was obviously well thumbed, and the title proclaimed it to be for Advanced Potion-Making. He looked at it in puzzlement, picking it up automatically, before lifting his gaze to meet his father's questioningly. Somewhat unexpectedly he received a darkly forbidding glare from the man.

"_Do_ _not_ attempt to use any spells you may find in this book without asking me first," he warned sharply, slapping his palms on the table in emphasis.

Corvus fingered the battered potions textbook somewhat hesitantly. It seemed too innocuous to warrant such stern behaviour from his father. Letting it fall open on the first page, he read the inscription above the book title. The ink was black, instead of the familiar red which had marred so many of Harry's essays … but the lettering was clearly Snape's handwriting.

Even though it claimed this book to be the property of the _Half-blood Prince_.

It would have been puzzling. However, he finally remembered what the newspaper headline had reminded him of: another name, spelled out in the rusty red of his own blood. One that proclaimed his grandmother … Snape's mother … to have been born a _Prince_. The goblin had even asked him about the Prince succession. And if you added the muggle father Snape had admitted to …

Well, it made sense. So this was his father's old potions book. It was kind of amusing in a way, that the Half-blood Prince had fathered a Black Prince. And maybe this was an opportunity to ask about his other grandparents ...

He looked up from the page, meeting the dark eyes that regarded him so sternly, and smiled. "This was your own book, wasn't it?" he asked softly.

"Yes. Now, I had a habit of … annotating the recipes with my own findings. If you follow my directions, you should have an easier time. Which will help you present yourself well to Slughorn. If you pay attention, you may even learn a thing or two," he added dryly. "However, do not take this book as an excuse to slack off in Potions!"

"As if I would dare," Corvus told him, still smiling. "Something tells me my marks shall be closely watched from now on."

"Less cheek, more effort, son of mine," Snape warned him again, though there was a hint of a smile in his expression as well. "Because I will indeed be keeping an eye on your progress."

"Desde luego, Padre."

"However, the warning was mostly because I was also in the habit of recording what spells I created in my text books. Some of them were far from innocuous. I do not have the time to look through it in detail to remove the dangerous ones, thus … please do as I said and _do not_ use any unsupervised."

"All right," he agreed readily, ghosting his fingers lightly over the inscription. "You know ..."

"Do I know what?"

"Will you tell me about them?"

"My spells?"

"Your parents."

There was a pause, in which Snape regarded him darkly. It almost reminded him of the old Professor Snape … only not really. That one would already have told him to get out, or yelled insults, or at the very least made unfavourable comparisons. This one … was merely unhappy with the question.

"Will you talk with me about the Dursleys in return?"

This Snape also knew how to tell a possibly lengthy story through asking a single question in reply …

"Ah. It would make that kind of story then?" Corvus asked, and his smile turned slightly bitter to match his father's.

"Unfortunately. Though in some ways it was far better than yours … while in others it was worse."

He sighed, closing the book and running an idle finger along its spine. "And then at Hogwarts you had the Marauders to torment you, too."

"Whereas you merely had to contend with possessed, faked, or sadistic teachers, Basilisks, Dementors, Dragons and similar minor inconveniences," Snape replied mockingly. "Hardly worth comparing."

Corvus sighed again, leaning back in his chair and casting his eyes towards the ceiling. "I know. Still … if there is anything worth telling, anything good at all … some of the better parts maybe … I would appreciate it. Eventually."

"Eventually, yes. When we have more time ..."

"Of course. So … I get to cheat in Potions, you'll get to torture me in Defence, if I find anything interesting in here I should always check with you first, and you don't like to talk about your childhood, either. Did I miss anything?"

"Yes. The bit where I said 'less cheek'," Snape told him, in quite exasperated tones.

But those exasperated tones carried an oddly fond note as well.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"So what do you think of the newly elevated _Lord Black_, Severus?"

He gestured discreetly towards the pensive resting between them. "As you saw, my Lord, he seems an … interesting character. And somewhat contradictory. I believe you procured memories of his appearance before the Wizengamot, sir?"

"Of course," the Dark Lord stated coolly. "But I asked you for your _assessment_, Severus, not for you hedging words. Memories cannot replace direct contact, after all."

"Certainly, my Lord," he said, bowing his head submissively. "Mostly I would call him … glib. I believe him rather adept at hiding that not everything he says matches up. He seemed very suspicious and guarded to me, and likely to question the motives and reasons behind everything. Yet this may also work in our favour, as he would therefore question the other side as well."

"Has he shown signs of that?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, Dumbledore is currently somewhat less than happy with him. Mr. Black appears rather unwilling to simply fall in line, and believe everything he is told. Nor does bend easily to the headmaster's usual attempts of subtle manipulation by playing the concerned or disappointed elder. He may be outwardly agreeable … but that does not mean much. You saw for yourself, when I probed him ..."

"Indeed, an Occlumens, and while still so young ..."

There was definitely greed in the Dark Lord's voice.

"Yes, and well trained in the ways of duelling, at least for his age. He would surely be an asset, my Lord. Whether he could ever be trusted … I have no idea. I am not sure he could be coerced, or pressured. But tempted … that, likely yes. You heard for yourself what he thinks of the overly repressive hold the British Ministry has on what Magics are allowed and which are judged forbidden ..."

"He certainly has interesting ideas. Unfortunately, many of them do go against our creed."

"He did, however, make a point of stressing that _so far_ he had heard nothing to make him agree with you. And if his views do not precisely line up with your vision, my Lord … neither do they with those of the Light fools."

"You truly think so?"

"In that speech of his, he clearly argued the need for separation from the muggles, how they were _different_, and a potential threat to magic and our way of living. That alone goes against the grain of those weak-minded muggle-lovers, who would embrace them at all costs. And if he does not agree with _all_ our ideals of blood-purity … given the background of his raising, is surely not surprising?"

"Yes, his foreign nature would need to be taken into account … but how much would it take to overcome it? Your opinion, Severus?"

"From what I have observed … the boy has a definitely Slytherin mind-set. I would be very much surprised if he ended up in any other house but that of your glorious forebear, my Lord. He also struck me as decidedly ambitious. Thus I suspect he mostly sees the muggle-born and half-blooded as a _resource_. After all, even the most accomplished potter must use the basest of muds to produce the finest of porcelains. I believe in that light, his views are actually not so very far out of line, are they?"

"You present a good argument, as always, my spy. So … temptation? Information untainted by the blathering of those Light-minded fools? Offering him more welcome than the judgemental and prejudiced one the Light gives? Is that what you would advocate, Severus?"

"Absolutely, my Lord. I believe his mind and talent would be worth the bother of exerting some effort. Thugs are a Knut for the dozen, and mere muscle comes cheap. But such minions are worthless without trusty, intelligent lieutenants capable of leading them properly. I believe he shows potential which could be groomed into something eventually worthy of taking a place at your feet. Do not, after all, forget his parentage, my Lord ..."

"Yes, his parentage," the Dark Lord hissed, casting a cold look across the room to where Bellatrix cowered, waiting to be summoned. "Were you able to ascertain his ancestry with the blood you obtained from him?"

"He is, indeed, her son. A true-born Black, my Lord. As for his father ..."

"You have not delayed in carrying out my orders, have you, my servant?"

"Never, my Lord. But so far none of your marked who I have been able to test have come up as anything more than a distant relation that is easily explained by his mother's blood alone."

"You did not forget to test yourself, Severus? I well remember even you were drawn to her in those days, and the boy would be a match to you in his colouring."

"Certainly. But for all that, there was no match at all," he stated decisively, offering up the memory of dripping his own blood into the test potion. Which went all dark and cloudy in response.

"Hmm. Continue with the rest, then."

Severus dipped his head in acquiescence. "I will. However ..."

"Yes?"

"Might it be conceivable it was one of the foreigners my Lord courted in those days? After all, Bellatrix was, as always, eager to … assist you in this. Perhaps there was a reason why she left for the continent when her pregnancy must have become difficult to hide ..."

"There is wisdom in your words, Severus. Because unless his father was likely to be very apparent in his features … why not pass him off as her husbands?"

"The thought had crossed my mind as well, my Lord. So it could have been a foreign paramour … and unless whoever it was left any trace behind, or reveals himself ..."

"We may never learn. On the other hand, such a man is unlikely to complicate matters by coming forward now … and if he does, we shall know."

Severus bowed submissively. "Indeed, my Lord. It would furthermore explain why his surname is _Black_, if he is otherwise of foreign descent," he added dismissively.

"In the end, it truly matters little, my sly serpent. You are right. We shall wait then, and see if he is a Slytherin as you expect. If he is … do your best to lure him to our side. And instruct the little serpents to do the same. However, if he goes elsewhere, or proves unwilling … he will need to be removed."

"Understood."

"Good. Now was there anything else you had to report?"

"There is one thing of possible interest. _Potter_ claims to be suffering from horrible headaches, my Lord, and is blaming them on you," Severus said with a sneer.

"How curious."

"Is he making it up, then? It would hardly be his first bid for attention."

"It is … possible. Though if he is suffering because of me, it would for once not be by purpose. Could there be any other reason for it?"

"I believe he is frequently closeted with the werewolf, and as of recently Alastor Moody also attends them. It is possible Dumbledore has seen fit to arrange for Occlumency training at their hands. I fear he no longer trusts my efforts in that regard," Severus allowed, putting a hateful expression on his face. "I have not dared to be too openly curious … but I might get the information out of the wolf. The next full moon is approaching ..."

"Do that," the Dark Lord ordered curtly. "Occlumency would explain headaches, after all, and I have no desire for the accursed brat to actually become accomplished. I must laud your efforts at failing his training last year."

Severus gave every appearance of being pleased with the compliment. "You humble me, my Lord. In truth, with the abysmal effort the brat put in, he would likely have failed even had I really attempted to teach him."

Voldemort laughed in dark delight. "Yes, it is very fortunate when our enemies do everything in their power to aid with their own destruction."

"Indeed, sir. I cannot imagine he would truly do better with other teachers, but I will find out what I may."

"Excellent. There was one more thing I was wondering about, though ..."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You seem to be mostly absent from your home this summer, Severus. I believe Wormtail is feeling rather lonesome most of the time."

"I fear I never cared for the residence bequeathed to me by my most distasteful father, sir. Now that it stinks of rat as well, it has become even more unpleasant," he replied with a grimace of distaste. "However, I am simply forced to spend most of my time at Hogwarts this year, since the headmaster has finally deigned to grant me the Defence position. Given the utter lack of proper teaching in the subject … there is much I need to prepare."

"True, my servant. Continue then," Voldemort said, waving one pale, slender hand in a negligent gesture. "Send Bella over … she has some more explaining to do, with her failure confirmed."

"It shall be my pleasure, my Lord," Severus said with a final deep bow as he rose to his feet.

"No doubt, my sly serpent. You do not much care for her these days, do you?" the Dark Lord asked with an anticipatory gleam in his red eyes. "I know how you enjoy hearing her scream."

What a good thing the Dark Monster had no idea what Severus was really thinking or feeling … though he had to admit it indeed gave him a fair amount of satisfaction to see the sadistic bitch suffer. But Voldemort could not understand it was for revenge, and justice, and not because of any true sadistic impulses on Severus' part.

No, the Dark Lord did not understand him at all. He only thought he did, based on lies and deceptions and the long dead sentiments of a much younger Severus Snape. But he was no longer the person who craved power, and wanted to be part of a dark brotherhood. And while he was still driven by a desire for revenge … it was now surpassed by wishing for redemption. The _revenge_ had such a different target, too.

It would be so very sweet to be able to throw that into his _master's_ face before his destruction. Though as long as the destruction happened, it was of little importance. Being able to taunt and gloat was no doubt satisfying … but in the end, sheer survival and _winning_ mattered far more. You could always gloat once your enemy was actually truly defeated. A lesson Sirius Black would have done well to learn.

Maybe then it would have been Bellatrix who lost instead of her cousin.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: As always, many thanks for all the lovely reviews, they really help to bolster my confidence! And since my reviewers appear to approve of a mature, political-minded Corvus Black, who can make speeches and impress an audience … I will cease to agonise about it. But don't worry, Corvus will also continue to be insecure and struggle with all the expectations heaped on him, because in the end he is still a teenager. Just one who has finally realised he is actually a fairly good actor.

However, I fear I will have to slightly increase the number of chapters I had estimated before going to Hogwarts. I totally have to blame that on Lord Greengrass inviting Corvus for lunch, though. In that context, I would really welcome some suggestions on whom I could believably make into a neutral from the stock of existing canon characters. I have a few candidates of my own, but I could really do with some more.


	32. Meet my Friends

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

.

oOoOoOoOo

What a summer this had turned into since his birthday.

What a summer full of shocks and discoveries and unexpected developments that had taken his life in a completely new, and admittedly often interesting direction.

But also a summer full of odd repeats and moments of déjà vu.

Because once again he was waiting nervously in the sitting room for the fire to flare green and the Weasley brood to come tumbling through. But unlike last time, at his birthday, he was no longer Harry Potter, trying to come to terms with the idea of being someone else. Instead he now pretty much _was_ that someone else, trying to dredge up enough of his old behaviour in order to fool his friends into believing he was still the person they'd known for years.

Which he just wasn't anymore. However, this was due only to a small extent to learning of his real background. Of course, discovering the truth _had_ lead to him gaining a family to rely on. Finding both pride and self-confidence through unexpected sources had quite an impact as well. But mostly it was the result of finally getting a grasp on Occlumency, which had not only helped him get some control over his emotions, but also allowed him to gain Inez' foreign memories. Those had ended up making such a surprisingly huge difference. And it had further enabled him to undergo the _Fidelius_, which was the final nail in the coffin of Harry Potter.

Altogether, Corvus Black was so very different from Harry Potter … and then again not.

He was still all the same … yet not at all.

Nothing had changed … aside from everything.

Seen objectively, the person he was now had grown out of the roots of his old personality. Which had not exactly been lost, but rather been … added to. Changed. Evolved. In a way Corvus Black had been grafted onto the person who used to be Harry Potter. And like with plants, the combination would hopefully serve to make him stronger, in the long run. In the short term, however, it still left him unsure and nervous about how to behave in many situations.

Like today.

But in the end, it did not matter. Because old, engrained habits took over, _Fidelius_ or not. He might be all different in so many ways, but quite a few of his automatic responses were not. Not yet, at least. Especially since they were not hampered by wearing that blasted corset, or having Corvus' impossible raven curls. Instead he wore his old glasses, which were starting to feel odd on his nose, his clothes were crappy and ill-fitting, and his hair was the short, untameable one of his past. And so he found it amazingly easy to tell them that, yes, he was fine, really.

Not surprisingly no-one believed him, just like always.

"Yeah, well, guess I'm not. Not quite, anyway," he admitted softly, smiling painfully at a slightly teary eyed Hermione. "I mean … I don't want to leave, really ..."

"How about you leave off with the saying of good-bye ..."

"Until we _actually_ _leave_? Since we …"

"Just got here!"

Trust the twins to keep everything from going all soggy right from the start.

"We thought this would happen!"

"That's why we brought distractions!"

"We brought fun!"

"We brought some of our new stuff!"

"The shop's going well then?" He interrupted them quickly. Their new shop would make for a much better topic than his impending departure.

"Oh, yes indeed ..."

"At this rate we'll have Zonko's out of business pretty soon ..."

"All ready for our take-over …"

"Today … Zonko's, tomorrow … the world!" they proudly declared with matching smirks.

"Not ambitious at all, are we?" Corvus asked them with a big grin. "However did you manage to convince the sorting hat not to put you in Slytherin, hmm?"

"Well ..."

"Admittedly ..."

"It did consider it ..."

"For about three seconds."

"Cause apparently aside from being ambitious ..."

"It said we had so much of Godric's fun loving personality ..."

"It could honestly not justify putting us anywhere but ..."

"_Gryffindor_!" they yelled in unison, pumping their fists into the air.

"Besides, we'd probably have given poor Snape heart-failure within the week ..."

"And we couldn't have that now, could we?"

"Wish you had," Ron muttered with a scowl. "Would have spared us five years of potion's agony."

"Yes, well, there's that. But then who would have kept me from falling to death from my broom in first year?" Corvus felt strangely compelled to point out. _Harry_ might not like Snape, but Corvus had come to rather appreciate his father. He'd also never liked people talking badly about his parents …

Which suddenly made him feel almost glad he wouldn't be around Ron and the other Gryffindors much. After all, bad-mouthing Snape was a frequent past-time up in the tower. Not without reason, but still …

Though they were all welcome to insult _Bellatrix_ as much as they wanted.

"Yes, but ..." Ron started to object.

"Professor Snape also did protect us bodily from Remus when he transformed in third year," Hermione interrupted him with a thoughtful expression. "Yes, his bias against Gryffindor is rather … unprofessional. And his teaching style is … well … but at least there's never really any serious injuries, and potions can be so dangerous!"

The twins both nodded, looking serious for once. "Oh yeah. We've had quite a number of close calls with accidents when we are experimenting."

"It's certainly given us an appreciation for the way Snape always kept on top of things."

"Have you lot all gone crazy defending _Snape_?" Ron spluttered, sounding disgusted with the way the conversation was tending.

"I think your year just has it the worst," Ginny commented with a grin. "Cause he doesn't like Harry. He's not half as bad with _my_ class, you know."

"Not you as well!" her brother protested, throwing his arms up in despair. "I'm surrounded by traitors!"

"Now, now ..."

"Calm down, little bro ..."

"You are far too easy ..."

"To rile up, you know?"

"Argh!"

"Now kids, stop picking on your brother!" Mrs. Weasley's stern voice came from the direction of the fire-place, where she was currently dusting herself off. Not that the chimney was as filthy as it used to be. Winky really was a marvel … a marvel he dreaded he'd have to explain all too soon.

"How are you, Harry?" she continued, coming over to give him a firm embrace. "I heard … well, I am so sorry for you, dear," she added, sounding tearful.

He awkwardly returned her hug. "It will be all right, Mrs. Weasley. Really," he confirmed, when she pushed him away to hold at arm's length, giving his face a searching look. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, but you always say that, mate."

"And if I'm not fine, will it change anything?" Corvus pointed out with a shrug. "I know I have to … leave."

"Oh, no. All our hard work of distraction, gone to waste," one of the twins declared mournfully.

He rolled his eyes at all of them. "It's _fine_. It really is," he said firmly. "We'll write, and before you know it, I'll be back."

Never. Harry would never be back. Then again, he wasn't exactly leaving in the first place.

"Indeed," Mrs. Weasley agreed, putting on a determined face as she let go of him. "Now, you kids have fun visiting with Harry, I have to go to the kitchen to prepare for the meeting."

"Uhm, ma'am?"

"Yes, Harry dear?"

"I think you'll find the kitchen a bit of a surprise ..."

"Oh?"

"Well, you see … Corvus ..."

"Yeah, what about him, mate?" Ron asked eagerly, with what seemed like a rather morbid kind of curiosity. "How's living been with him since he's now _Lord_ Black? Has he started lording it over everyone?"

Corvus frowned at his oldest friend. Did Ron _want_ Corvus Black to be a horrible person? Just to validate the expectations they had of him because of his mother? Though in all honesty, the red-head had never been the most open-minded of people. It shouldn't be a surprise, really, not after the tournament. That had been the same, with Ron assuming the worst of Harry. Assuming the worst of a stranger was hardly a big deal in comparison.

It was still disconcerting. Disappointing. As well as slightly hurtful, despite Ron not knowing he was once again expecting the worst of his own friend.

"Well, no. Can't say he's behaved any differently. He is still perfectly polite, and stuff. But what I meant is that somehow, not sure how, actually … dunno who suggested her ..."

"Why don't you just say it, Harry?" Hermione encouraged him, though there was a slight frown on her face.

She was also eyeing the far too clean sitting room with obvious suspicion. He moved towards her, getting ready for her inevitable reaction.

"Well, you won't like it, I guess. But he somehow ended up binding Winky to the Black family," he explained slowly. "You know, old Crouch's elf? The one getting all miserably drunk at Hogwarts?" he added for good measure, trying to remind her that not all elves dealt well with being free.

"What?" his friend exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "How could he!"

"Hermione," he told her firmly, quickly putting his hands on her shoulders in an attempt to focus her attention on him. "You saw how she was at Hogwarts, without a master. She was a real mess, wasn't she? And she's totally different now! She's all happy! She seems to really enjoy cleaning up the house. You need to see the smile she has on her face now. Dobby's … just _Dobby_! I don't think he's a good yard-stick to measure all house-elves against."

"But … it's still slavery!"

"Is it when they are getting something out of it, too? And clearly she must, or why else would she do so much better with a new master? They simply _aren't human, _Hermione! I think what would be slavery to us … somehow gives them purpose. I mean, I totally agree people shouldn't be allowed to mistreat them, and Dobby was certainly a horrible example of that, but … you just have to see her," he concluded lamely, giving her shoulders a little shake.

"Really?" she asked, clearly unconvinced.

"Yes, _really_," he responded. "Unfortunately, I'm not sure she'll come if I call her while you lot are all here ..."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Well, I'm not her master. I think Corvus has told her to stay away from people when there's a meeting."

"But why would he do that?" Hermione asked, almost bristling with suspicion.

He shrugged his shoulders at her, pretending ignorance. "Dunno. I think it's for Winky's sake, actually, so she doesn't get confused. But if you want to talk to her, and I believe you ought to, I can run up and fetch him down. It wouldn't hurt anyway for you lot to finally meet him."

.

oOoOoOoOo

"Have you come to hide out with me _already_?" Dora inquired amusedly when her cousin came rushing into his room, where she was posing in front of the wardrobe-mirror.

Corvus shook his head at her, still too much out of breath to talk from dashing up the stairs, and plunked down unceremoniously on the bed. His lovely, inviting bed with its big pile of soft pillows. He felt drained already, and yet it had only been a few minutes since his friends' arrival.

"Are you just about done playing dress up?" he asked her dryly after taking a few deep breaths. "I know I've got some pretty nice stuff in there, but ..."

"Hmm," she agreed, turning around again to better view the gold-embroidered emerald robe from Madrid she had liberated from his wardrobe. "How can a girl resist, when tempted with such extravagance? And it was all bought by males, too! Amazing!"

"Yeah. You wouldn't think to put either my father or Remus in the same sentence as dress sense, but they both did really well when putting together my costumes. But I don't believe you should come downstairs wearing something like that ..."

"No," she sighed wistfully in agreement, executing a last twirl, before she began taking the thing off. "Better stick with the trousers, shirt, waistcoat and far too many buttons which seems to be your new standard attire."

"You should know who to blame the buttons on," he groused, getting up from the bed again and taking the robe from her to put it away.

Dora simply laughed and tousled his hair. Harry's messy hair. His new wild curls were currently being worn by Dora, after all. What a good thing he'd gotten used to her looking like both his incarnations. At least he'd stopped staring at her in fascination all the time. Which might have appeared quite odd, and given people all kinds of wrong impressions.

"So what's the official reason for you coming to fetch me?" she asked lightly as she stepped towards the door, giving him a quizzical look.

"The fact that I have a house-elf," he told her with a weary sigh. "Which reminds me … Winky!"

"Yes, Master Black, sir?"

There was a pause. In which the little elf kept looking between them, obviously trying to work out exactly who her Master Black, sir, was at the moment.

"It's perfectly all right, Winky. Mistress Dora is pretending to be me, and I have to look like Harry Potter for now. It's all a big game. Like a … a masquerade! But it's important nobody else knows who is who, so today simply behave as if we were who we look like, all right?" he quickly told her with a reassuring smile. "So while she looks like me, you need to call Mistress Dora 'Master Black'. Which she almost is, anyway," he added with a cheeky grin at his wayward cousin, while Winky nodded earnestly.

His cousin meanwhile made a face at him. "_Mistress Dora_? I ought to hex you good for that one!"

"Mistress Dora will not harm Master Black!" Winky squeaked, putting her little hands on her hips, and giving his cousin a strongly disapproving glare.

The picture she made ranged somewhere between perfectly ridiculous and oddly endearing. Though ever since Dobby had sent Lucius Malfoy flying, Corvus was certainly not going to underestimate a house-elf's power. Especially not when they went into protective mode.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't touch a hair on your _dearest_ master," Dora growled with an evil gleam in her eyes. "Right at the moment, at least. But he'd better be prepared in his next training session ..."

"Eekh!"

"That's the price of cheekiness, cousin dear," she pointed out, stalking towards him and wriggling her fingers suggestively.

"But you love me anyway, Mistress Dora," he dared, quickly ducking out of the door ahead of her.

"That won't help you," she shouted after him. "Anyway, I guess this means I'll be on the receiving end of a Hermione rant? Anything else I should be aware of, oh mighty Master Black, sir?" she inquired sarcastically when she caught up with him just before he reached the stairs.

"Well, I'm afraid Ron's his usual explosive self, so better stay clear of him if you can ..."

"So you grab him and distract him, and I let myself be cornered by Miss house-elf activist?"

"Sounds about right. I might have to start bemoaning the fact I can't play Quidditch where-ever it is I'm going. That should earn me sympathy points, and suitably horrify everyone to distract them from you."

"It's not even entirely wrong ..."

"I can still go fly," he said with a sigh, stopping on the last landing. "Just not … you know. Anyway ..."

"Right. Show-time!"

.

oOoOoOoOo

The show in question started off unexpectedly amusing, as he got to see the first reaction of his friends to Corvus Black from the outside, so to speak. Honestly, that initial reaction was not quite what he would have predicted ...

"Hot damn," Ron whispered irreverently, staring at 'Corvus' with a pole-axed expression.

"Hmm?"

"If that guy was a chick, he'd be _totally_ hot."

"True ..."

"Very true," the twins agreed, looking the fake Corvus up and down with a rather worrisome calculation in their expressions.

"So? I told you he looked like his mother. She may be insane and evil, but she was supposedly rather beautiful once."

He studied Dora carefully himself, but as far as he could make out she looked exactly like him. And far too much like his mother, of course.

"Yes, but Harry, you failed to mention he's good-looking enough to be a model," Hermione argued, sounding slightly breathless.

"A what?" their read-head friend asked in confusion. "A model of what?"

"Uhm. When Muggles design and sell clothing fashion, they sometimes hire people to display … or 'model' those outfits … and such models are usually really beautiful people."

"Yeah, he's certainly gorgeous," Ginny also agreed, eyeing the subject of all these observations in obvious appreciation. "That guy is sure gonna turn a lot of heads at school."

"More's the pity I'll be gone then," the real Corvus beside her mourned with a sad sigh.

Inside he was feeling mildly perplexed. Surely he wasn't quite _that_ good looking? Sure, the adults kept telling him so, and he kind of did agree with them … but hearing his teenage friends say it as well seemed to make it that much more real. Maybe keeping the hair long was a mistake after all? Then again, if people focused on his appearance, they were less likely to consider other things about him … like his murky past.

"What? Why?"

"I could really have done with someone to take the attention away from me all this time," he reasoned. "You know, give them someone else to ogle."

Unfortunately, this also meant Corvus Black would be getting almost as many stares as Harry Potter had, if for different reasons. Though admittedly he'd take 'because he's so damn good-looking' over 'he somehow managed not to die' anytime. And since he'd already been through the 'he might be the next Dark Lord', the Death Eater parents should be a pick-nick in comparison. Still …

It would have been nice to be less noticeable for a change. Apparently it was simply not to be.

'Corvus' finally finished greeting the elder Weasley's who they'd run into when they entered the sitting room, and tentatively started towards where 'Harry' stood next to his friends. Apparently Ron still didn't have his expression under control, because Dora's smile turned mocking when her gaze went to him. Corvus quickly stepped forward.

"All right, everyone, let me introduce you to Corvus Black. I'm sure by now you've all heard enough about him. Corvus, these are my friends Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, as well as Ron's sister Ginny and his twin-brothers Fred and George," he pointed out everyone in succession, while Dora shook hands and smiled winsomely.

The usual awkward first words were exchanged, everybody behaving stiff and uncomfortably. But while his friends were rather guarded … they were at the same time obviously curious. And Hermione was almost vibrating on the spot, likely torn between wanting to ask 'Corvus' all about Spain, and cultural differences … but also challenging him because of Winky. It was actually a good thing Dora had the house-elf issue to hide behind, because she wouldn't be able to answer half of Hermione's other questions. Unfortunately, his supposed command of English was far too good to hide behind not being able to understand them.

Time to take control of the situation before anything could get out of hand.

"Corvus, would you mind calling Winky, please?" he quickly asked once the introduction was done and they were all eyeing 'Corvus' awkwardly.

Probably because they had been all set to dislike the evil Death Eater spawn, and instead met someone who was not only as polite as Harry had claimed, but also very attractive and personable. Even the twins seemed affected. And yet all Dora was doing was copy the disarmingly charming smile her cousin had developed. Well, good to know it would work to confound teenagers as well.

"But of course," Dora immediately agreed, turning the full force of the smile on Hermione. "Harry has mentioned you are very interested in house-elves, Señorita Granger. Winky!"

"Yes, Master Black, sir?"

The little elf had a delighted gleam in her big eyes as she gazed up adoringly at Dora, letting them flicker just a moment towards the real Corvus. Almost standing at attention, she then shifted her regard to the frowning Hermione, who had taken a step towards her.

"Winky?" the girl began tentatively, clearly thrown by the obvious difference in both the appearance and the demeanour of the house-elf.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Would you mind … may I ask her some questions?" the last was directed at Dora, as Hermione seemed to remember her manners.

"If you wish, Señorita," his cousin assented readily, though the gleam in _Dora's_ eyes promised she was going to have some fun with Hermione's over-zealousness.

Right. Since the others would be eager to escape from that, it was the perfect moment to draw the focus of their attention away.

"So, what kind of stuff have you come up with," he asked the twins, casually slinging an arm over Ron's shoulders and unobtrusively turning him away from where the great house-elf inquisitorial debate was starting up.

"Oh, let us show you our newest idea ..."

"Chocolate toads!"

"Uhm … so what's the difference to chocolate _frogs_?"

"Well, ours don't jump around …"

"And there's no cards to collect either ..."

"They are boring really, because all that happens is ..."

"When you eat them, you get turned into a toad!"

"Which was totally not inspired by a certain former teacher of ours ..."

"Not at all, no ..."

"And it's perfectly safe to give them to say, colleagues you don't like ..."

"House-mates who annoy you ..."

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation as they both eyed 'Corvus', who in turn was watching Hermione interrogate Winky with that faintly mocking smile. Dora had really picked up on his mannerisms … or maybe it was simply his face which lent itself easily to that expression?

"Teachers that you hate ..."

"Up to and including wicked step-mothers and evil mothers-in-law."

"But no matter who, they all start to croak!"

The two grinned widely, proudly displaying a pair of frog-shaped packages. Ron prodded one of them.

"Why's that one look like just a normal frog then?" he questioned.

"Ah! That would be the stealth version, which is indeed just like a normal chocolate frog in every way ..."

"Until you get turned into a toad, that is."

"But sadly, we can't sell those officially ..."

"Or we might get sued ..."

"We only offer that version to _special_ customers," they finished with a wink, one of them presenting a box of the presumably faked chocolate frogs to Corvus, who accepted it with a raised eyebrow.

"So I'm a special customer?"

"_You_ are our super-special customer, Harrikins!"

"Because of you-know-what ..."

"Besides, where you are going nobody can pin anything on us ..."

"So have fun if you meet anyone you don't like."

"Oh. Yeah, well, you never know, stuff like that might come in handy. Thanks, guys. I'll be sure to tell you if I get to use them successfully."

"That is all we ask ..."

"Now see what else we've come up with ..."

The next quarter hour or so passed agreeably, leaving him altogether in awe of their creative geniuses. Not that he loved playing pranks all that much, but their sheer inventiveness, and the drive behind it was genuinely admirable. Ron was clearly even more impressed with their new stuff, and managed to wheedle several samples from his brothers. He appeared to have forgotten about Dora for the time being, but since Corvus was watching for it, he caught the read-head gazing over to his cousin and Hermione several times. And he looked increasingly unhappy when he did so.

The twins seemed totally focused on their presentation, but Ginny kept glancing over at those two as well. There was something about her expression he didn't like much. Something … speculative. Which combined with her occasional side-way glances at himself, made him feel uneasy. It wasn't that her behaviour was particularly calculative or anything like that, because it wasn't. It simply felt a bit like she was measuring something in her head, and comparing stuff, and taking notes. None of which was even markedly different to her normal behaviour. He'd just lacked the insight to spot and interpret it before.

But it was enough to put him slightly on edge. Which also made him edge away from her surreptitiously.

On the upside, he had to admit it was entertaining to see how shy little Winky looked to get increasingly more stroppy with Hermione the longer they talked. The elf kept looking over at her real master, which fortunately nobody seemed to notice. But then, at that point he'd indeed been forced to play his ultimate pity card to stop Ron from outright glaring at Dora, because his friend's tendency to jealousy and suspicion had finally overcome his initial befuddlement.

It had worked perfectly, though, and now the Weasley lot were all busy trying to cheer Harry up, because no Quidditch? What horror!

Personally, he would miss not playing a bit, but … on his list of priorities, it had slipped _way_ down. And honestly, he'd never been as obsessed as the Weasleys. It was mostly the flying he would miss, rather than the actual game. However, according to Ron, not being able to play again was by far the worst thing about Harry going away. Which it wouldn't have been, even if he were actually leaving. But Ron had never been away from both his friends and family. He had no idea what enforced loneliness and isolation really meant.

And how merely losing out on Quidditch frankly paled in comparison.

Still, it was easy enough to pretend distress. After all, he _would_ miss it. Somewhat. But mostly it kept them from asking too many other questions, just as Winky prevented Hermione from grilling Dora about Spain. Which was mostly a good thing, until he actually ended up having to rescue Hermione from the house-elf, who was getting slightly hysterical defending her Master Black from the girl. A fact which clearly baffled Hermione, but would hopefully also give her something to think about. Something to maybe finally break through her obstinate obsession with freeing the elves … whether they wanted to be freed or not.

Dora wasted no time to take the upset house-elf away, conveniently making her own escape at the same time. None of the Weasleys seemed loath to see 'Corvus' go, only Hermione looked disappointed. However, he forestalled any protest on her part by all but dragging her with him to the make-shift Owlery under the pretext that he needed her help with Hedwig.

Which was actually the truth, because he really required her assistance with his owl. And it got him away from everyone else for a little while, and the deceptions he had to necessarily feed them. The big deception, at least, had gone down well enough. They had certainly achieved their main objective, which was to firmly establish Harry Potter and Corvus Black as two distinctive people to his friends, who couldn't possibly be one and the same person.

Getting everyone to _like_ Corvus was more of a long-term project. Very long-term in some cases, he thought glumly.

Hermione would likely be the first to fold, if only because of her insatiable curiosity. Hermione, who was upset at upsetting Winky, and kept apologizing for it. Hermione, who he needed to help tie up one of the remaining lose ends left by Harry Potter's disappearance. Which reminded him he should talk with Remus about getting another owl for the teacher's use. And he should also ask Walburga where the old Owlery used to be. Because surely a family like the Blacks ought to have a proper one somewhere?

Though considering the family, it might be in some remote, dark-infested attic. And they still had a long way to go with cleaning the house before they could tackle _those_.

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oOoOoOoOo

"Would you take care of Hedwig for me, Hermione? I mean, at first Dora will have her, but … I think I want her to stay at Hogwarts even afterwards. She'll be at home there in the Owlery, and you can use her to write to your parents and send letters to Remus. To, you know, forward," he explained awkwardly. "I think it will be better this way."

"But don't you want to take her with you, Harry?"

"Maybe later. But she has to go with Dora, and afterwards … it might not be a good place for her where I'll be. Better for her to be at Hogwarts. I know she likes you, don't you girl?" he asked the snowy owl perched on his hand, her talons gripping so very gently, with her soft, white feathers warming his skin.

Hedwig turned her head to face him, the big yellow eyes regarding her human unblinkingly for long moments. Then she made an odd little chirruping sound and closed her eyes, stretching her head in a clear invitation for a scratch.

"Well, that was informative," he said wryly, obliging her with a good neck-scratch.

Hermione smiled at the two of them and reached out tentative fingers to stroke the lovely white feathers of her back. "At least she didn't seem to disagree," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed, smiling back at his friend tenderly. "So … take good care of her for me, give her something to do, feed her bacon at breakfast, that kind of thing?"

"Sure, Harry. I'd love to. And I do promise to write often … but you have to do the same!"

"Of course. I suppose they'll keep me busy … where-ever I'm going. Though I don't expect much in the way of entertainment there, so I should have plenty of time to write. I'm sure hearing from you will keep me from feeling so lonely," he concluded, turning the smile wistful and sad.

Sad, and oh so very fake. He really didn't like how his life was turning into an act. But …

Nothing to be done, but make it up to her somehow. If he could. And hope she would understand, once she learned the truth.

At least Hedwig would not care. The owl didn't appear to distinguish between Harry and Corvus, at least she accepted him every bit as readily now as she always had. Clearly her recognition of him was not based on outward looks. Just as the _Fidelius_ had not affected his reactions to his familiar. Obviously whatever bond they shared went beyond all that.

But then, what did he really know about the bonds between wizards and their familiars? Crookshanks certainly had a strange relationship to Hermione, and was highly intelligent and intuitive. Quite like Hedwig, who always seemed to know when he needed her, and to be able to understand what he told her. Whether she was willing to listen … was another matter entirely. He especially doubted she could be persuaded to stay away from him … well, perhaps if he visited a lot with her in the Owlery?

If not, it would eventually make for some … interesting conversations at the Slytherin breakfast table, with everybody wondering why _Potter's_ owl should come visit Corvus Black.

However, in that case he planed to feed them the story that he'd ended up staying at the same place as Potter after he'd arrived in the country, and for some mysterious reason the owl had taken a shine to him. And that she really liked his hair. Which was pretty much the truth anyway. Hedwig had recently taken to nibbling and preening his curls every time she ended up on his shoulder. Anyway, even in past years she had not visited Harry every day, and if Hermione kept her busy flying about, it shouldn't be a problem too often.

But with Hedwig at Hogwarts, he could go and see her in the Owlery whenever he wanted. After all, Corvus Black, with his foster family and friends in Spain, might be expected to send a lot of letters. In fact, if security allowed it, he could use Hedwig himself to send some of them. He'd have to check with the adults about that, since he didn't want a repeat of what happened with Umbridge last year. On the other hand, nobody would know he was using her to send stuff, so … it ought to be safe enough.

And if she brought him letters to the Slytherin table, he could always further claim _Potter_ had also taken a shine to him and kept writing him. For whatever reason. For that matter, if it became necessary, he could even use his dicta-quill to write letters to himself. Which would actually be the perfect way to pass false information on, if he was then careless and let someone else read them …

He sighed and gave Hedwig a good last scratch before letting her step daintily back over to her perch. Apparently the headmaster and his love of convoluted plans had started to rub off on him, too.

And wasn't it strange to refer to himself as _Potter_ ...

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: I will keep this note short and admit this is really only half of what I'd planned for this chapter. But when the conversation at the end threatened to get even longer, making the chapter far too unwieldy in my opinion, I finally decided to simply split it. I also did that because once again, to my great chagrin, I am very overdue. I just hope posting _something_ will help me get out of the writing doldrums, so … have half of a chapter. Sorry. At least the rest is mostly done, too. Which in theory, means you should get it … soon. Hopefully. Oh, and as always, thank you very much for the great reviews, which were great like always! Because I have some really great readers. Anybody know any good spells against the writing doldrums? Because I hate making people wait!


	33. Faded Sepia

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

In the end it was inevitable that the moment of saying good-bye should arrive … no matter how hard the twins had tried to hold it off. But not even their creative genius could stop the time from passing, though at least they had managed to make it pass much smoother and far less awkwardly than it might have otherwise. Those two were quite the inventors. They would do well. They would be busy. They would not really miss Harry, for all they liked and oddly respected him. Nor would he particularly miss them, because they were gone from the school anyway.

Unlike the other three. They would be there. So would he.

But they would not know that.

They would not know him.

It was as if everything had gone into slow motion. As if every colour had leached out of the picture and left everything a faded sepia.

Because this really was the last time.

The last few moments, that he wore the illusion of Harry Potter.

For the very last time.

His last chance to say good bye.

To them … and to his old life.

Because after this evening, Harry Potter would officially be gone. Emotionally, he was already buried so deeply … still perfectly preserved and present, and yet so ... distant at the same time. Reduced to a mere collection of memories. Memories like photographs in a faded sepia. And he'd come to terms with that for the most part, simply because it was kind of hard to miss something which felt so remote. He vaguely realised this detachment wasn't exactly normal, and only due to the _Fidelius. _However, half the reason he'd agreed to undergo that was because he wasn't too fond of most of his old memories anyway. It was nice not to be so burdened by them any longer.

It would also be nice to no longer have to put on an act. The pretence of Harry Potter. Who he just wasn't anymore. Yes, he could still play the part. But it was stressful. Yes, old habits had kicked in, but it didn't really come naturally anymore. By contrast, for all that Corvus Black was partly an act as well … he was increasingly becoming less so. Which was all to the good, of course, seeing as he _was_ Corvus Black. And would always be.

And from today on, that's all the others would see of him as well. Because Harry Potter would be gone. Gone somewhere far away. Of course they believed he would come back eventually, too, but …

He never would. After this day, Harry Potter would simply quietly slip away, until he was merely another myth. The myth of the Boy-who-lived.

Who had turned out to never-have-lived-at-all. He'd been both real in a way, and yet nothing but an illusion. It was all rather ironic … and strangely fitting at the same time. That the one who never quite existed in the first place, should now apparently disappear forever. Never to come back. Fated to fade away, until nothing remained of him but faint memories for even those few who'd actually known him. Until the Boy-who-lived remained only as a story to tell small children at bed-time.

Fortunately, he could blame his distraction and emotional distance on being distressed about having to leave. So if his behaviour felt forced to his friends, well, he was at the point of departure into the unknown. Distress and awkwardness were perfectly understandable at this point. Only to be expected. There were plenty of reasons for him to act so subdued.

And he was a guy. You weren't meant to cry anyway. A pat on the shoulder, a stiff embrace to make any Englishman proud, and a choked good bye, hope to see you again soon. More heartfelt if even more awkward embraces for the girls, but that was fine, too. And when he buried his face in their hair, then no-one could see that face. Or the conflicted emotions on it.

Because thanks to the _Fidelius_, there wasn't all that much sense of loss. It was more that he was upset about having to deceive them so blatantly. And that it wasn't harder to do.

Ginny was the easiest of them, after the twins. Because in truth she was only a friend, the youngest of a family who'd tried hard to include Harry … and yet had failed. Because you couldn't create a family out of a few visits. Family was that place where you did not feel awkward around the others. Where you knew you were accepted no matter what. Where you were wanted, despite everything. Unless you got one of the horrible ones, of course. The ones without love, or with irreconcilable differences. But that wasn't really _family_ then. Just _relatives_, who happened to share some common blood.

But Ginny, hugging him tearfully, strands of her red hair clinging to his cheek … was neither his little sister, nor someone he loved in other ways. He liked her well enough, but not as well as Ginny herself possibly wanted. He also suspected in many ways it would actually be better for her to have Harry gone. She was a popular girl, she had no lack of friends, and certainly no problems finding herself a boyfriend, either. She would manage perfectly well without him. And as matters stood, he was a perpetual reminder both of an old, childish crush, as well as the dark happenings in her first year. Neither of which was exactly a good thing for her.

He also couldn't help recollect his recent uneasy thoughts about her.

He just couldn't get around the fact that, thanks to the new perspective Inez' memories had granted him, something about Ginny now felt … off. Though her behaviour wasn't so much faked, as _false_. Because it was based in a false hero-worship, and a false crush nurtured with the stories of a Harry Potter who'd never existed. That version of Harry she grew up with had _never_ been real. And though she had gotten over the worst of it after she met the real Harry … for a given value of real … it still coloured her perceptions of him. She would always see him as her hero, or worse, try to mould him into one. Into something he wasn't, and didn't particularly want to be either.

And she was Molly's daughter. Molly Weasley, who ruled her husband with a firm hand. And he was no Arthur Weasley. He was also no James Potter, or Vernon Dursley for that matter. In a way, he had grown up without a proper father figure. If he were to emulate anyone now, it would probably be Remus. And his own father, of course. His real father. Who was hardly perfect, but who had turned out to be surprisingly protective and supportive, without crushing or smothering his son either. Who was a man working tirelessly for redemption, despite the cost to himself, and who was scarily intelligent. And frankly brilliant. Well, and very difficult and demanding most of the time.

But Severus Snape certainly had his good points. As did Remus, who was there for Corvus despite everything, and had wonderful ideas, and was nicely even-tempered and non-judgemental. So when he took the best of those two, it combined into something well worth aspiring to. And if that something included a lot of sarcasm, and not letting others walk all over you, all the better. It also involved a great deal of unconventionality, and thinking outside the box. It meant thought and calculation, which he'd learned to appreciate as far preferable to being careless and unprepared.

Because carelessly rushing in, no matter how good your intentions, could go so very wrong …

And leave you with nothing but regrets and guilty feelings. Though thanks to the Fidelius, those were now muted as well. Which was just as well. Corvus Black could not afford to be weighted down by past mistakes. Aside from learn from them not to be so stupid again, obviously.

Anyway, this image he was building, of the person he'd like to become, was likely not what Ginny wanted. She desired someone far more ... malleable. Her personal prince charming, who would cater to her every whim. All right, maybe he was being uncharitable here … but better safe than sorry. Because he was done with being moulded to fit the image others held of him, unless he decided to do so by himself and for himself. Certainly not for her sake. So no, far better if she lost that Harry Potter, and with him any last lingering remnants of her crush. Which would hopefully help her develop a far healthier and meaningful relationship with someone _real_.

As for himself, with the distance of the _Fidelius_ dimming everything … he couldn't particularly muster much feeling of loss for her. Just another friend, remembered somewhat fondly.

Unlike Hermione, who'd been such a huge fixture in his life. Yes, she was frequently irritating. She had a few rather annoying traits. She could be ever so bossy, for one. But … she had been Harry's friend because of _Harry_. She didn't become his friend because he was the famous Boy-who-lived, but because he saved her from a troll, and from loneliness. She had put up with a lot for his sake, and come through so many times, often quite brilliantly. He would definitely miss her.

If he lost her, that is. Because she didn't have that many friends, did she? Seen realistically, Harry probably was the one she was closest to. As well as the one who kind of glued the three of them together. He felt a sudden pang of remorse at what this might do to her. Because Ron was … well, difficult. For all that the red-head had started showing some interest in her as a girl recently, he had never made much effort for them to stay _friends_. And their personalities, left to themselves, would clash. Possibly horribly.

But...

There was no stopping things now. It was too late. No matter how much he might want to, he could not risk telling her. Yes, she was a better actor than the rest. She could be pretty pragmatic and even utterly ruthless at times, always provided her love of the rules didn't get in the way. Her treatment of a certain beetle had undeniably proven that. But he very much doubted she would be able to keep this a secret from the others. She would want to tell them. And in case she agreed not to, it would tear her apart. So, no. Not a possibility. Not yet, at least. Though … maybe later. Perhaps circumstances would allow it at some point in the future.

At the moment, the only thing he could really do for her, was for Corvus to try to befriend her afresh. And save her from loneliness once more, in the worst case scenario of her falling back into it. All in all, his chances of getting close were much better with her than Ron, especially if she felt lonely and took refuge in the library. Though hopefully it would not come to that. Yet even if it did, it changed nothing.

Because it was too late.

Of course, he had a secret ally in the form of Dora. His cousin, who knew who Corvus was, and who could help him establish himself with people. She would urge them to include him if they managed to get the DA going. And _Harry_ could write to Hermione as well, to encourage her in case she hesitated about becoming friends with a Slytherin. Hermione was also the one person most likely to forgive Corvus in the long run. Especially if they'd become close again.

Because Ron … well. That would be ever so much harder, if not downright impossible, because of the deeply ingrained suspicion and prejudice the red-head held for anything Slytherin. Plus there were other things about Corvus which would rouse his jealousy. Such as having money, and a Lordship on top, and apparently everything handed to him on a silver platter.

His horribly tarnished silver platter.

If Ron only knew the truth … he would still not take it well. Because Corvus Black simply personified far too many things the red-head could not abide or was jealous of. Ron would likely not be able to understand, much less accept, that Harry had more or less thrown away his old life in order to be _him_. He would feel abandoned and betrayed. But …

Once again, there was nothing to be done about it.

But Ron would survive without Harry. He had his family, and plenty other mates. They might not be as close as Harry had been, but he was on good terms with a lot of people. He would deal with the loss better than Hermione, who'd always struggled with others.

Though maybe she would bloom now, especially when she was no longer held back by being part of a fixed trio. She'd become much more socially adept since her first year. She got along with far more people nowadays, and had positive interactions with the other houses, too. That could easily turn into new, closer friendships, especially if she was no longer fixated on her two old companions. And he would attempt to become one of those new friends.

He would also cheat outrageously in order to do so, by using his prior knowledge of her to win her trust. He sighed in vexation. Because like a true Slytherin, he _would_ use this advantage to get what he wanted. As the Hat had put it at his first sorting … those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. And the remains of the Gryffindor in him protested about such underhanded tactics. Yet ... it was for her benefit, too.

Therefore he would not hesitate to use what he knew of them. Against all of them, and for their sake, too. He would use it to become a friend … again.

Provided they let him. If not … well, he would survive, too.

It was time for the next act to commence, in which he had a new role to play.

Exit Harry Potter, enter Corvus Black.

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oOoOoOoOo

"So how did it go with Miss Granger and the Weasleys?"

"Fine. Just … fine," he replied in a flat tone of voice. He was feeling rather worn out and tired … emotionally at least. He also didn't particularly fancy talking about this.

His father, however, merely raised a doubtful eyebrow. Corvus sighed and leaned his head back in defeat. Because clearly Snape believed that statement about as much as his friends had.

"All right, no it was … bloody hard. I still don't like actively lying to them like that. Because well, in the past, it's been mostly through omission," he admitted, shifting restlessly. "Which isn't quite the same. I'm not sure I like how easy it is most of the time, either. But the hardest part ..."

"Hmm?"

He idly wondered how many of his old Gryffindor house-mates would possibly believe him if he told them Snape could actually look gently _encouraging_.

"It's the contrast. In how easily they believe _Harry_, just because it's him, and how suspicious they are of _Corvus,_" he explained morosely. "It's made me realise all over how much of our interactions are influenced by preconceptions and prejudice … but also how much I've always kept from them. Which is making me feel ..."

He trailed off in frustration, casting his eyes down to his lap, because he didn't quite know how to express his vague feelings of inquietude and upset. The hand coming to rest on his shoulder made him look up again into the dark eyes of his father. He smiled ruefully. Yet another thing the Gryffindors would never believe … that someone could possibly feel comforted by the snarky Potions master.

"Like a fake. Like Harry Potter was such a fake all along."

"Why would you feel that?" The older wizard appeared genuinely curious about the answer.

"It's … how much they've actually never known about me. Which means our friendship has always been kind of … false, if I look at it honestly. Because I'm pretty sure I know _them_ fairly well ..."

"Yet you always stood at their side. You defended them, and cared for them. You were willing to go to great lengths for their sake. They _mattered_ to you. Being honest with each other is but one aspect of friendship, son of mine. And not necessarily the greatest part, either. Because in the end, actions speak louder than words."

"All right, I guess that's true enough. Still … "

"If they failed to perceive your … deeper nature, that was their failing, not yours. You were under no obligation to expose yourself to them. And you did not keep your secrets in order to betray or hurt them, but because deep down you realised it was none of their business. Because friendship does not automatically require complete disclosure on all sides. Furthermore, I suspect in part you did it to protect them, and their innocence, or is that not the case?"

"Well. Maybe. Partly. Mostly I was simply too embarrassed by many things, and afraid I'd lose them if they knew about some of it ..."

"Do you really believe they have always told you everything? Can you honestly claim Miss Granger and Mister Weasley have told you _everything_ about themselves, especially the parts which made them feel embarrassed or uncomfortable?" Snape asked with an ironically arched eyebrow.

He sighed unhappily in return. Because while he knew those two pretty well, it was of course more than doubtful he knew _everything_ about them. Especially the embarrassing bits. If he was generally more perceptive of them, than they were of him … it was indeed their failing, not his. You didn't have to put on blinkers, just because your friends wore them.

"No," he admitted reluctantly. "I suppose not. But it's not only that I've kept secrets. I've also behaved … differently, because I wanted them to accept me. To like me."

"Corvus, you need to realise _everybody_ does that, though some undoubtedly more so than others. Quite frequently, common politeness all but demands it of us. Very few of us have such naturally … pleasant personalities that we can go through life without offending others … unless we go to some effort to hide the more abrasive aspects of our nature."

Corvus gave him an incredulous stare. "Do you seriously want to tell me _you_ have ever tried to hide any _abrasiveness_?"

Snape shook his head and looked amused. "Most certainly. For one, I would hardly still be alive if I ever dared to show the _Dark Lord_ and his other servants what I really think of them. And there are plenty of daily interactions I have where my patience is sorely tested, because I have to behave much more agreeably and polite than I would wish to. I cannot number the times I have refrained from strangling Sybil Trelawney, for example. However, even with the students I rarely allow my true feelings to show."

His son resumed his doubtful stare, after a few moments of struggling to manfully suppress his laughter at the mental picture of Snape calmly strangling a bug-eyed Trelawney with one of her own scarves.

"Do not forget you saw some of the very worst of me. Because I persisted in assuming the worst of you, something which I now regret deeply," Snape continued softly. "Yet as a result, our relationship became truly horrible and out of control at times. However, I could hardly afford to do that with every student … not even Albus Dumbledore would have enough patience with me to allow me such behaviour. Not that I would want it in the first place. Because you see, in the end, most of it comes down to avoiding unnecessary conflict. Even I could not wish to have a full-out war with the whole school."

"Oh. Well, all right, I suppose I'm not the best person to judge your behaviour ..."

"Regrettably not, no. But trust me, there are very few people who are entirely open and honest all the time … and those tend not to be the easiest to be around, either. In fact, I could point to two of your friends in this regard."

"Hmm. I guess you mean Ron? But who else?"

"Miss Lovegood. And you cannot deny that as a result, she faces a good deal of ridicule and alienation from most of the student body," his father pointed out calmly. "Mr. Weasley, by contrast, usually gets by because he has a fairly easygoing and simple nature … yet his temper, jealousy and prejudice all too often cause problems, do they not? I believe you yourself often bore at least part of the fall-out?"

Corvus sighed unhappily again, remembering his own earlier thoughts about Ron. "Yeah," he agreed sadly. "I don't like to think about him like that, but … you are right. I guess I often behaved … untrue to myself, largely because I wanted to avoid conflicts with _him_. I've just never liked being at odds with my friends. Well, with people in general."

"Which is not wrong in principle. However, it ensured you ended up hiding your more Slytherin side, which would not have been accepted easily. You largely did so by copying the behaviour of those around you in order to blend in, rather like the chameleon. Yet for all the chameleon can change amazingly on the _surface_ … it does not truly change its nature. I suspect neither did you."

"So you think my being a Gryffindor was a complete pretence all this time?"

Snape made an exasperated sound and shook his head again slowly. "Of course not. You are unquestionably almost insanely brave at times. And you have quite a temper, which can easily blend into Gryffindor brashness. But how much of your behaviour was truly your own? How might you have acted if you had kept other company?"

"I know, I know. I even told you that myself, didn't I? But … wrestling with all this, and figuring out who I really am ..."

"Has left you reeling and insecure. Especially considering all the demands we make of you, and the many changes required for you to fit into your new role. Which I dare say, is still an act to some degree … yet you seem far more settled these days?"

"Yes. Which is strangely … hard to accept, at times. Overall I feel more _me_ than I ever did before … but it's … sometimes I just can't help wonder if I'm doing the right thing?"

"Do you believe it wrong that you are finally growing into a personality which runs contrary to many of the expectations people have of the Gryffindor golden hero?" Snape asked, his face a study in sarcasm. "A personality that was yours to begin with, I should point out, but which you suppressed in order to fulfil those expectations?"

Corvus closed his eyes, rubbing a weary hand across his eye-lids. "No, of course not. I suppose I just never realised how much even I had bought into that hype," he admitted, feeling oddly bitter. "Though I guess I can now finally escape the hero," he added flippantly. "I'm far more likely to be cast as a villain."

"Especially as a Slytherin," his father agreed gravely. "However, you have started out well with your charm-offensive."

"Yes, but is it going to be enough? How did the Order react to what happened at the Wizengamot?"

"I honestly do not believe it changed very much on that front. Those that doubted you still do, while those inclined to trust you did not find anything too worrisome in your words. You did spark a discussion or two, though …"

"Oh? What about?"

"You made a few Order-members finally realise how much they had taken the muggle-born for granted … and that while the Light side automatically assumes them to choose their side, they do not actually offer all that much more than the rest."

"They don't really, do they? They can be pretty condescending, too. Anyway, how many muggle-born _are_ there even in the Order, do you know?"

"Hardly any, I fear, and none in any position of importance. Because it is mostly comprised of the _old crowd_, left over from the last war. They are trying to recruit … but in these uncertain times, they tend to fall back on old acquaintances rather than take the risk of courting outsiders ..."

"Which most muggle-born are, of course. You know, it's hard enough coming into an all new world, and learning about magic, without the disadvantage of everybody else already having contacts and friends. It's one reason I latched onto Ron, I guess … he was the first one I met who wasn't all stuck up or involved with others," Corvus said with an unhappy scowl.

Because it really made him wonder if he wouldn't have fared much better with someone better connected … and whether befriending Ron had been the easy choice, rather than the right one. If he had known more people, he might not have ended up so segregated every time things went pear-shaped.

"The Weasleys are indeed oddly isolated for a pure-blood family. To some extent because of their blood-traitor status, but I suspect mostly because the very size of their family makes them … self-sufficient. Mrs. Weasley hardly had the need to look for play-mates for her children elsewhere. Which left them somewhat … insular ..." Snape pointed out delicately, with a strangely tentative expression.

As if he feared criticism of his friends might still cause his son to blow up. Well, no longer. But the attempt at consideration was nice, nevertheless.

"So Ron was only too happy to have little ignorant me want to be his mate. It probably didn't hurt I was the Boy-who-lived on top of it," Corvus speculated gloomily.

Increasingly, he doubted he would go to any great efforts to regain Ron's approval and friendship. Because it looked to be a fairly insurmountable task … for a gain which looked less and less appealing. Not that Ron was necessarily such a bad bloke … but neither was he the kind of person who'd make a good friend for Corvus Black. Not at all, if he was honest with himself.

Once, not so very long ago, he would have felt rather more conflicted about thoughts like these. He might also have refrained from any acts which would upset Ron. Now … he was much more inclined to simply ignore the guy, and go steal Hermione away. It wasn't as if his old friends were a package deal where you needed to buy everything in order to get the one thing you wanted out of the lot.

"Anyway, to finish with your earlier question about the Order, I believe you opened a few eyes. It might do some good … or not. As for the doubters … Albus shot down any arguments when he told them you had assumed your neutral stance with his blessing and indeed even encouragement. Which had most of them nod along like sheep ..." his father continued sardonically, interrupting Corvus' thoughts.

Apparently being disillusioned with people was something of a family-trait.

"You really don't think much of most of them, do you?"

"I believe by now you have realised why that should be the case? Nevertheless, they are a necessary alliance. I do not have to agree with them on all points in order to work with them. And your contact with the Order will likely be limited anyway."

"Probably a good thing, that. Oh, and what about Moody? Does he still officially hate me?"

"To stop abruptly would have been suspicious, so yes. He did put on a good show of reluctantly bowing to the headmaster's will when he was asked again to tone down his antagonism … accompanied by a lot of glowering and grumbling. He also gave a most gleeful account of how playing guard for your outing at the Ministry had allowed him to watch _you_ at the same time."

"Heh. Good thing it was only Dora with us then."

"We do try to cover _all_ angles, Corvus," Snape admonished him, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I know, and you all are doing a smashing job. I'm certainly not complaining about having competence on my side, Padre," Corvus told him with a wry smile and a placating gesture. "I'm simply still not used to it … and well, I tend to worry."

"Do attempt to restrict your worries to your own part in this endeavour. Such as your lessons ..."

His son made a face. "Yeah, I guess so. Tomorrow should be fun, because Moody wants to start pouncing on me, too."

"You would do well to listen to him. He has trained many an Auror in the past, and for all that I find him frequently infuriating, I must admit he is an accomplished wizard. And quite experienced."

"And very paranoid."

"A good dose of paranoia will certainly not come amiss if you wish to survive in Slytherin, son of mine."

"Don't remind me ..."

"If I really do have to remind you, it might be to late. Which reminds me ... _Legilimens_."

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oOoOoOoOo

AN: And here is the rest of what should have been one chapter. I realise it starts off as one looong wool-gather. Which is deliberate, as it is meant to represent that one, frozen moment in time when the pendulum seems to hesitate before changing direction. In theory at least, always provided I manage to write like that, things should become less introspective and more active from now on. There shall still be plenty of dialogue, however, because frankly I believe that is what I write best. I am not very good at action scenes I fear, but who knows, I might get better! In any case, the pacing of the story should pick up from now on. I wish I could say the same for my updating speed, but … well, you never know.

As always, thank you very much for all the reviews, with a special thanks to Ulktante! I believe she sent quite a few new readers my way, so to return the favour I would like to point out her very well-written story 'Benefits of old laws'. Plot-wise it is quite different to this one, and yet oddly similar as it also contains a Harry forced by circumstances to adapt to a (literally) Slytherin identity. And while I am at it, there is another recently discovered story I wish to recommend, because it deserves far more readers for its brilliance. It is 'Malfoys Family Values' by belana-rus, featuring both a Lucius Malfoy muttering most amusingly to himself in French, and a 'nice, but a little sulky' godfather Severus (in little Draco's words). Oh, and somewhere along the way Lucius turns from 'I will adopt Harry to later become a grey eminence' into 'I will go to war with the Dark Lord himself for my sons!'.

You know, recommending stories turns out to feel rather satisfying, so I guess I will have to make a habit of it. For starters I should therefore also point you towards the community on my profile, which contains all those stories I consider really good and outstanding in some way. Many of them are really, really funny too!


	34. Reminder of Reality

Disclaimer: All characters and recognizable story elements belong to J. K. Rowling.

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oOoOoOoOo

The summer was coming to an end.

There was only about a week left until the start of September. And Corvus' little garden at Grimmauld Place increasingly reflected this fact. Yes, there were still warm days. Like today. But it was the tail end of the season, and despite the warmth of the morning sun bearing down on him, there was definitely a tang in the air. A tang which spoke of autumn coming. Of green leaves changing to yellow and red, orange and brown. Of the bright colours of summer fading to the fallow shades of fall. It also carried the slightest hint of decay, of bare, turned earth and crumbled, rotting leaves.

Of course it was not autumn just yet. Nevertheless the taste of it already swung in the air, bitter-sweet. A reminder that time was running out. Soon he would go back to Hogwarts. Back for his first time. And there was still so much left to do beforehand.

He felt somewhat morbid as those thoughts ran through his mind while he stood waiting for the others to join him outside. Apparently this morning's training session wouldn't involve anything athletic, so seeing as it was a perfectly nice day, Remus had suggested they might work outside. Corvus certainly was all in favour of that. His little bit of greenery right in the middle of London had come a long way from the overgrown mess it had been at the start of summer. It needed more work here and there, but it had become rather a pleasant place through his efforts.

Obviously this work would never end, because such was the very nature of gardening. Nothing was ever _finished_ where growing things were concerned.

Which was a nuisance and a blessing, all in one. As he slowly began walking along the narrow gravel-covered path around the tiny central lawn, his eyes fell on the seedlings he had planted so long ago. All of three weeks long ago, on that warm summer-evening after his birthday-party. It felt much longer than a mere three weeks, though. Because like those seedlings, he had grown and evolved a fair bit since then. They had turned from fragile little plantings which had nearly been washed away by the next rain, into the beginnings of sturdy, low bushes. Like him, they had quite a way to go yet until they reached their full growth … but with the careful tending increasingly provided by Winky alone, given his full days, they surely would.

And so would he, under the careful tending provided by his family and teachers. That group now included Alastor Moody, who had just stepped out into the garden, followed by a smiling Remus. Well, that meant at least one of them was smiling. The old Auror had a scowl etched onto his face instead, as his eyes locked with Corvus'. He gave the other wizard his best charming smile in return, and a raised eyebrow. The scowl only got worse. Right. So something was clearly bugging the man.

"Oh, come on Mad-eye! Don't be such a grump," Dora pronounced briskly a moment later as she brushed closely past Remus, who was blocking most of the door-way.

Corvus noticed with some amusement that Remus didn't seem to mind being brushed up against, even though his cousin once again looked like Harry. He also saw Moody's frown deepen as he glowered at Dora, who apparently was the reason for his ire. Or maybe it was both of them, or rather his irritation with having both the real Harry, so to speak, and an imitation one in the same place. At least the old Auror's eyes, both the false and the real, kept flickering between them as Corvus moved back towards the door to stand beside the Metamorphmagus.

"You know we have to practise this! And _you_ have to learn not to call _him_," his cousin continued heatedly, pointing a finger at Corvus. "_Potter_ anymore!"

"The day a young chit like you gets to tell me how to do my job ..." Moody growled angrily at her.

"Happens to be the day when you keep messing up!" Dora interrupted him, sounding angry herself. "Though I don't understand why, you had no problem at the Ministry."

"It's the bloody house, all right?" the wizard snarled back, tossing his head in irritation. "Makes me think of the Blacks, and _her_, and so I need to remind myself he's really Potter, and then _you_ show up looking like him ..."

"But I am," Corvus was the one to interrupt Moody's diatribe this time. "I am a Black. I am not Harry Potter, not _really_. And no matter what any of us think of it, I am her son … and no thanks to you for spoiling a perfectly nice morning by reminding me of the fact," he added, now feeling a bit grumpy himself.

The old bastard suddenly gave a shaky laugh, which he turned into an embarrassed cough. "Well," he said, sounding apologetic. "At least the way you glare is one hundred percent your father, laddie."

Corvus scrunched his eyes shut, rubbing at his eyelids, and shook his head. "I know, I know, it's the eyes, and I have to watch it so I don't frown or glare," he recited in a monotone which was nevertheless full of sarcasm. "And never stand next to him if I can help it, and always smile instead, which is creepy by the way, and ..."

"And you have astonishing powers of memorisation," Dora told him brightly, tugging on the one lock of his curls which always seemed to want to trail down towards the front instead of down his back.

"So?"

"So we are really here today to see if we can't get you to demonstrate yet more astonishing powers ..."

"Such as?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, _Black_," Moody grumbled, looking rather uncomfortable. "They tell me you've figured out how to do silent casting? In like no time at all? And you've learned how to apparate, and you went from being a disaster at Occlumency to fairly competent … all within the last three weeks?"

"Erm … I guess so?" Corvus admitted, feeling oddly reluctant about it.

"All that goes to show you've clearly been under-performing up to now, lad! You obviously thrive on being challenged more, I say."

"And therefore we would like to see if you can get somewhere with the next step up," Remus continued mildly, finally stepping down from the doorway and putting an arm around the young wizard in order to steer him over to a grouping of chairs set up in the shade.

"Which is?"

"Wand-less magic, of course," Moody declared as if it was the most natural thing in the world, snagging a chair for himself and sitting down opposite of Corvus.

"But ..."

"No buts! You won't know unless you try, lad, and if you can do it, the sooner you get started, the better! Because wand-less means you have to power your spells without a focus … "

"Which makes it even harder than silent casting. So what Mad-eye is trying to say is that in order to actually be able to do anything worthwhile with it, you will need to practise a lot," Dora broke in, taking the seat to the left of her cousin while Remus settled down on the last remaining chair on his right.

Corvus gazed from one expectant face to the other. "You really think I can do this?" he asked, feeling quite conflicted.

Because on the one hand … it was yet another thing they were expecting him to do. But on the other hand … their obvious belief he _could_ do it, was a big compliment in a way.

"You will indeed not know until you try … and _keep_ failing, despite giving it your best. However, nobody here expects instant results, or miracles for that matter, so don't worry," Remus began with an easy smile, sounding calm and confident. "Now as Alastor said, you have to draw the power out without using that bit of wood as a conduit," he continued, gesturing towards Corvus' arm where he kept his wand. "Which means the first step is to directly connect with your magic core. Become more aware of it, you might say. Something I am sure you will be able to do, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to learn both Occlumency and Apparition."

"Well, I suppose you may be right about that part," Corvus allowed, considering the way he felt like he was tugging on his magic to make him bypass space. "But then how do you actually get the magic to do something specific? Apparition I kind of understand, because for that all you need to do is give it a direction. However for other stuff … I mean, it's obvious I have to envision the result … but that can't be all, can it?"

"It is definitely the key component, cub. However, most people who can do this say they also imagine doing the wand movement in their head … if that makes sense?"

"Hmm. Actually yes," he said thoughtfully. "If I imagine the wand leaving a trail of light … then I could do that in my mind and superimpose it on what I want to happen."

"Whatever works for you, laddie," Moody agreed gruffly. "It's pretty much the same for how you get the power out. Some of the Aurors I've trained in this said they almost have to wrench at their core, while others told me they kind of … tease it out. Some let it flow, and others force it. It all depends on your personality, I reckon. Or how you envision your connection to your core, and the magic itself."

"I suppose I would be more one of the 'let it flow' kind of people then," Corvus speculated after considering this for a few moments. "Because if I try to picture my magic, it seems to be mostly something … fluid. And I can imagine letting that fill a … form, or a mould … which is usually created by the wand-work and incantation? I mean, you can't really drag or force a fluid. Or clouds, or even flames. But you can guide them. "

"That sounds perfectly reasonable," Remus told him with an approving smile. "Now you only have to try it."

"And_ actually succeed_," he pointed out with a sigh. "Can all of you do it?"

"Mad-eye's quite good at it," Dora replied with a sideways glance at her old trainer. "I can only do some minor stuff. But well, it takes most people ages to learn, though I'd like to believe I'm rather inventive with what little I can do so far … Remus?"

The werewolf gave a nod, still smiling at Corvus. "I dare say I'm also fairly decent. However, I had a lot of both time and incentive to learn. If you travel a lot amongst muggles, being able to do stuff without having to wave a wand about … well, it is much less conspicuous."

"Oh. Well, that is good to know. I thought it was, like rarer, or something."

"Actually it _is_ fairly uncommon. You shouldn't forget Alastor is a highly decorated Auror, Dora has been subjected to his training, and as for me … I suppose I am not exactly a slouch in the magic department, either. As regards the teachers, including your own father, whom you might have seen use it … well, you generally don't get to teach long-term at Hogwarts without being pretty accomplished, you know?" Remus pointed out.

"And here I was trying to scrape up a reason to feel more confident ..."

"Laddie, if we take into account producing a full Patronus at thirteen, being able to shake off the _Imperius _at fourteen_, _learning Apparition at sixteen in a couple of hours, becoming fairly good at Occlumency at the same age, and topping this of with mastering silent spell-casting in like a day," Moody expanded on his earlier list of arguments while spearing Corvus with his good eye. "And then add all the stuff you've _done_ since you came to school … really, what's not to feel confident about?"

"Uhm," he said uncertainly, fighting the impulse to duck his head. Because he didn't particularly want to explain how he'd grown up being told he was no good, and would never amount to anything. Of course that had been freaky little Harry Potter, who was no longer quite real, but some things lingered. Snape was certainly right that he'd been damaged by the Dursleys … if only in the resulting utter lack of self-confidence.

"Cub, just try it," Remus urged, putting his left hand on Corvus' knee, while fishing in a pocket for something with the other.

Something which turned out to be a tiny white owl-feather. The teacher then took the younger wizard's unresisting hand and deposited the flimsy, nearly weightless thing on his palm. It tickled a bit, and moved slightly when Corvus drew a deep breath.

"I … oh very well, I will try, and not think of my doubts, and ..."

"Keep trying," Dora finished, reaching out to pat her cousin on his shoulder. "We all have a lot of confidence in you, even if you don't. So what you will do now is join us in an exercise to focus on your magic core, and then give it a go. All right?"

He met her earnest gaze, feeling hesitant despite their reassurances. On the other hand … if he turned the hand holding the feather over, he would see a line of runes. Confidence. Certainty. Success. Maybe they would also help him in making the magic flow … and letting this tiny contribution of Hedwig float.

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oOoOoOoOo

Of course he didn't succeed. But as the others did not appear discouraged by his failure, and in fact praised his ability to stay focused and not give in to frustration … he supposed he might eventually get there. Especially since he found connecting to the power itself seemed to come easy to him. All he needed to do was let himself sink partially into trance, and remember what he did when apparating. However, getting that power to actually _do anything_ was another cauldron entirely.

He had experimented with seeing a glowing trail of wand-movement, or simply concentrating on visualising the result. Or a combination of both. The same with saying the incantation aloud, or only thinking it. He'd even tried simply _wanting_ it to happen.

Unfortunately, the only thing which had eventually stirred the tiny feather was a sudden gust of wind, which had torn it from his open palm and tossed it about carelessly, as if to mock him. The wind had also brought clouds, of the ugly, dark grey variety usually pregnant with rain. Which arrived in due course, starting off with a light drizzle which rapidly turned into fat drops hammering down on the roofs around them.

Needless to say, they beat a hasty retreat as soon as it started, while Winky snatched up their chairs and took them into the house.

Corvus then got to work off some of his frustration as they started a series of short duels, with him and Remus against the two Aurors. Not that this exercise wasn't frustrating, too, as it showed him quite clearly he had a long way to go to match the others. However, they all had years of training on him, and a wealth of sheer experience. Which fortunately, they were all perfectly willing to share with him whenever they took a break. Mind, he could have done without some of the more gruesome examples which Moody tended to bring up.

Eventually the topic of discussion returned to wand-less casting.

"What you want to do, Black, is go for weak spots," Moody told Corvus as he settled himself more comfortably, shifting his false leg with a wince. "Wand-less is always gonna be weaker, compared to normal casting. But hit the right spot ..."

"I've always liked a nice bludgeoning hex to the crown-jewels," Dora suggested with a wicked grin, as she watched the three males automatically cross their legs and look discomfited. "That works on females as well, by the way," she continued. "Hurts like hell if you get hit on the bone there."

"Oh? It doesn't exactly take somebody out, though," Corvus commented dubiously.

"Us magic folk can survive a lot, cousin dear, but we are every bit as vulnerable to the distraction of sharp pain as the muggles. There are some things you just can't ignore, no matter what. And with no wand or incantation to alert them … your opponent can't shield against it."

"Which is of course one main reason for you trying to learn this," Remus took up, giving the grinning Dora next to him a decidedly queasy glance. "Such … impolite," he continued, after clearing his throat. "Attacks aside, what other weak points of the body can you think of?"

"Hmm. The eyes?"

"Very good, lad. Shoot a bright light in their eyes, and they are blinded," Moody approved with a nod, his false eye spinning oddly. "Which definitely puts a crimp in most people's casting style."

"You know, if they are standing still in front of you, because they believe you are disarmed and stuff ..."

"Yes?"

"Why simply use light? If you could do a stinging hex … well, it would be just like getting something in your eye, no? After all that hurts like hell, and probably blinds them a lot longer."

"Not a bad idea at all, Black, not bad at all. Course, if you really want to harm them, don't stop at a stinging hex. A cutting curse, and they'll have to get some serious work done before they can see again … if they ever do," Moody took the idea further, apparently not bothered by the reminder of his own false eye.

Corvus winced at the thought of doing that to anybody, until he remembered Voldemort's red eyes mocking him. The idea of slashing right through those was admittedly rather appealing. He'd definitely have to remember all these suggestions, though, in case he actually ever managed to do this.

"Stinging hexes are probably pretty good all round, aren't they?" he asked after a moment of contemplation. "You could also make someone drop something that way. I mean, usually the problem is you can't aim them accurately enough in a duel … but against a stationary target ..."

"Aye, lad. That's one thing which makes up a bit for it being weaker in power … you can aim better. And as Lupin mentioned earlier, it's damn useful when dealing with muggles. If you can manage even a weak _confundus,_ or a cheering charm, you can do a lot with that. They're also often a superstitious lot, so a party trick or two can sometimes get you out of a tight spot."

"What do you mean with party trick?" Corvus asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Pretty much anything that you do simply to impress people," Dora threw in with a laugh. "I'm sure that's why your father often puts the potion recipes on his blackboard without a wand. As long as you manage to build the illusion that you can do a lot more than you actually can … you have a big psychological advantage."

"So like what specifically …?"

"Mostly summoning stuff, or levitating things. You can also use that as a distraction … hit somebody in the back with something, and they are very likely to turn around," Remus explained. "Or even a weak _incendio_ works wonders if you use it on something highly flammable."

Yes, like for example Snape's robes while his father was casting a counter-curse ...

"Indeed, Black. Constant vigilance! Because everything can be a potential weapon, or at least a crucial moment of distraction!"

"And of course, if you can summon your wand back to you, it can be a real life-saver," Dora concluded.

"Great, so more practise with summoning charms," Corvus complained with a groan. "As if I didn't get enough of that for the tournament."

"Then you should have an easier time with it, since you're already really familiar with the spell," his cousin countered mercilessly. "It's a very versatile one, too, and a good one to train your strength with. That and levitation, obviously."

Corvus nodded obediently. He could always get himself more of Hedwig's feathers to practise with.

"You'll also have to try harder not to show any sign you're doing something," Moody continued after a moment. "The best attack is the one your opponent doesn't see coming at all. Even better if they never notice it's you who is attacking. As long as they don't realise you can do magic without your wand, you have an advantage. Wand-less casting is limited, and will always be limited … but if you are even a bit inventive with what you can manage … it can make all the difference."

"Plus you can use it to mess with people's heads," Remus threw in, and the eager gleam in his eyes reminded Corvus uncomfortably of the times when Sirius had been telling him stories of the Marauder's pranks.

Sirius.

It hardly hurt anymore to think about his dead godfather. Mostly it was just a twinge of guilt. Some regret that a wasted life had ended too soon, and partly through his fault. Before the man could finally get around to growing up properly. Because he couldn't help remember who had oh so frequently been the target of those pranks.

Snape.

His father.

He shuddered at the thought that he used to laugh when Sirius had told him what they'd done to _Snivellus_. Of course that had been at a time when he'd still hated the teacher for his bad treatment of Harry. But that was no real excuse. Not when Harry had known intimately what it felt like to be the target of bullying himself. And how much mere words could hurt. Like freak. Or Snivellus. It was a truly horrible thing to call someone. To turn someone's very _name_ into such an insult. So aimed at someone's dignity and very identity.

Harry really should have objected even then, at least about that.

But he had fallen into the trap of camaraderie, of wanting to belong and be accepted. Which reminded him disturbingly of his father's explanation of why the man had joined the Death Eaters. Thinking about this also made him realise all over again how slim the divide between pranking and bullying really was, and that it was not so very much further until it turned into torture. Certainly that scene he'd witnessed in Snape's pensieved memories had been awfully close to torture. And worse, that most of the others there had cheered and laughed and certainly not intervened.

To find yourself in such a situation, disarmed, helpless, with every hand turned against you … it made his stomach clench painfully to imagine himself in the same position. Though actually, he didn't have to _imagine_ it. Because that was almost exactly what Voldemort's resurrection party had been like for Harry. He'd just been too utterly terrified for his life to take much note of the Death Eaters cheering and taunting him for being so helpless. But now when he thought about it, the similarity between the two situations was rather frightening.

To know that it had been his foster-father and godfather, and to a lesser degree also Remus, who'd done stuff like that to his real father only made it worse. And as a result, the idea of pranking people, or even just messing with their heads, had never held less appeal for Corvus. Well, unless they started it maybe. Or perhaps to avoid some other, far worse escalation of a conflict. But certainly not for laughs, never that, though he supposed there were after all good reasons to mess with people's heads. Of course this begged the question of good for whom.

Really, when had his world turned into so many shades of grey?

In any case, wand-less magic would also make for a good _defence_ against bullies and pranks. Or torture. And being helpless because you had lost your wand, no matter whether it was evil Dark Lords or your own classmates who'd taken it.

He resolved to try harder.

.

oOoOoOoOo

They held another round of practise after a quick lunch. This time Moody insisted Corvus should pick out a small number of spells that would serve under most circumstances and practise them until they became an automatic response. Or as the ex-Auror pointed out, versatility and a huge spell-repertoire was wonderful when you had sufficient time to figure out what to do. However, when you really needed to respond _now_, having instinctive reactions was worth the effort of repeating something until you could do it in your sleep. And do it not only fast, but also accurately and powerfully.

Corvus was privately convinced he would indeed likely end up dreaming of casting _stupefies_ that night. But Moody had a good point. Just a _very_ _repetitive_ one.

However, the drill was undeniably effective. Which was why a sudden popping sound to his right nearly ended with little Winky taking a stunner straight to the head, as he whirled to face the sound and cast without thinking. Fortunately, he had been aiming too high, so the spell hit the wall behind her instead.

He stared breathlessly at the wide-eyed, white-faced little elf-girl, who was swaying on the spot, one hand raised as if to ward him off, while the other was clenched tightly around something which trailed a long chain of silver links.

"Master?" she mumbled uncertainly, gazing up at him with an utterly terrified expression.

"Oh, Winky, I am so sorry," Corvus told her remorsefully, trying to get his own shocked reaction under control. Her sudden appearance had startled him badly. Which would no doubt earn him a lecture from Moody. "You surprised me," he added for good measure, seeing as the elf only continued to stare at him, blinking slowly. Her hand loosened slightly, which caused the chain to slide further towards the floor with a soft klinking sound.

"Winky? What's the matter?" he asked when she merely continued to stand there as if frozen. "I didn't actually hit you, did I?"

"Master … no … not hit ..."

The little elf seemed to unfreeze all of a sudden, and instead began to shake and quiver all over. She brought both of her hands to her chest, still clutching whatever the chain was attached to closely in her fist.

"Of course I will not hit you. I would never hit you deliberately," he tried to reassure her, crouching down in front of her and reaching out to pat one pillow-case clad shoulder awkwardly.

Unfortunately, his efforts to calm her only led to her shaking even worse, and she started crying and wailing, before actually throwing herself at him and holding onto him with surprising strength. Corvus shared a discomfited look with the adults, who seemed just as baffled by this unexpected display of elven distress. In the end there was nothing for it but to let it run its course, until she eventually calmed down enough to let go of her master again. She then hunched in on herself, trembling and quite obviously still in shock.

"Winky has found … has found ..." she hiccuped, and finally opened her little fist which had been clenched tightly around some object all the time. Something metallic spilled out of it, landing on the floor with a soft thunk. It lay there, far too small to be the cause for such upset. Emeralds glinted at them, set in a curvaceous letter on the lid of an old fashioned locket.

So small. Surely far too small to radiate the concentrated malice he felt assaulting him as soon as he began to study it.

"Winky? Where did you find this?" he asked slowly, his hand automatically going to his hidden scar, which had started to ache slightly in a disgustingly familiar manner.

"In the old pantry behind the kitchen, Master Black, sir. Where the old house-elf lived," she explained in a faint, tremulous voice.

"Old house-elf? You mean Kreacher?" Remus asked, kneeling down next to her and extending a cautious hand towards the locket.

"Yes, sir. Bad, nasty old house-elf," Winky said, reaching out as if to intercept him from touching it, but the teacher only let his palm hover over the piece of jewellery. He began to frown as he withdrew his hand after a few moments, looking entirely disquieted.

"What is it?" Moody demanded gruffly, eyeing the group around the locket with a frown of his own.

"I have no idea, but there is something very dark about this thing," Remus explained, casually using the wand in his other hand to levitate it up from the floor onto one of the old, rickety tables. Getting to his feet again, he began to cast a series of detection spells on the locket, some of which Corvus recognised from when they'd gone furniture hunting. Continuing to press one hand absently against his scar, he dragged a chair over to the table and sat down to observe. He watched as the werewolf got increasingly frustrated as all his spells appeared to come up negative for curses. So did Moody's, who joined in on the casting after a few moments.

Yet the feeling of … evil, for want of a better word, emanating from the locket did not diminish. In fact, the longer Corvus sat there staring at it, the more agitated and unsettled he felt. As well as irritable and wanting to lash out at the others. He tried to calm himself, but if anything this seemed to bring him all the more in tune with whatever was so negative about the thing. He also didn't realise he had started to scratch at the scar until Remus' hand on his shoulder suddenly brought him back to himself.

"What?" he snapped tensely, oddly perturbed by the expression of concern on the other wizard's face.

"Something is wrong with you, Cub," Remus stated blandly. "And it started once Winky let go of this thing. It appears to be getting steadily worse, too. Can you tell me at all what it is, please?"

"I … something … I don't know," Corvus muttered irritably, finally letting his hand sink. He absently noted he must have scratched his scar bloody. At least there was blood on his fingers. He looked at them with a strange, distracted fascination. Everything seemed so … intense, and at the same time oddly distant. It felt as if his head was packed with cotton-wool, too. He gave a token protest as he was firmly pulled up from the chair and steered from the room.

Which was good. Distance from that _thing_ was good. Really good. He could feel the agitation get less and less the further he was moved from the room. In fact, it only took about a dozen steps for the strange feelings to be almost gone, though they left a bad taste in his mouth behind. Because what in hell had that been?

"Ugh. What _was_ that thing?" he exclaimed, shaking his head to clear the last cobwebs and taking a few deep, cleansing breathes of air.

"Better?" Remus asked, conjuring a handkerchief and carefully dabbing at the blood on Corvus' brow.

"Yeah," he replied, accepting another piece of cloth from the teacher and using it to clean the red stains from his hand. "I think so. But seriously, what can that be?"

"I have no idea. There doesn't appear to be any curse on it, but it is undeniably very dark. I've sent for your father, and Alastor has gone to fetch Albus. And Dora took Winky to the kitchen … the little one was most distressed at seeing you so … "

"Kind of losing it? Yeah, no idea what caused that. I mean, with my scar acting up I'd suspect Voldemort, but …"

"It might be something which used to belong to him, maybe? Something which has been tainted by his magic," Remus speculated thoughtfully. "Otherwise I really can't explain why your scar should be hurting ..."

"His scar has been hurting?" a familiar deep, smooth voice suddenly asked. Corvus looked up in surprise, feeling unexpectedly happy to see the displeased face of his father.

"Yes, just now, Severus. Cub, why don't you go and have a sit-down for a few minutes. You still look all faint. I'll go show your father that ... thing and fill him in meanwhile."

"As long as you don't conveniently forget about me afterwards," he said, giving Snape a faint, reassuring smile since the man was peering at him with evident concern. "I'd very much like to know what is going on."

"I promise you will learn of anything important, Corvus. Why don't you see if Winky can make us some tea meanwhile? I am sure she could do with a distraction, too. And have some chocolate, Cub. That will help with the shock."

Corvus gave a shaky laugh. "Why is it always chocolate with you? All right, I'll be a good boy and see to Winky. But I'm fine … now, Padre," he added wryly. "At least I think so."

"Most reassuring that, coming from you," Snape drawled sarcastically, though his expression had lightened somewhat.

"He is merely as bad as you are, Severus," the werewolf commented lightly, his mouth twisting into an amused grin. "You are always fine, too. Anyway, come along and I will show you what caused today's upset ..."

"Don't say that like there is one every day," Corvus complained over his shoulder as he turned to make his way down to the kitchen.

"Well. Maybe just _most_ days."

"Yes, yes. Very funny!"

.

oOoOoOoOo

"So that's what we know of this thing," Remus finished his recounting of how the elf-girl had shown up with the locket, and the subsequent strange reaction Corvus had displayed to it.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache in the making. "Most concerning," he agreed, having just finished casting his own detection spells on the locket. "Especially since its appearance matches the description we have of one worn by Salazar Slytherin himself. Have you tried opening it yet?"

"Well, no. We were going to wait for Albus with that," the wolf explained quickly, at seeing Severus frown impatiently. "I guess we should also question Kreacher what he knows about it."

"Indeed."

"Do you want Corvus present when we try to open it, though?"

"Want? Not really. But nevertheless I believe he should be there. If only so he does not try to find out about it behind our backs … and because if this thing does belong to either Slytherin or the Dark Lord, we may well need him to open it."

"Parseltongue?"

"It is certainly a possibility, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hmm. Quite," the wolf assented, tilting his head sideways in a listening pose. "I think I heard the floo. Why don't you see if you can shield this a bit and then take it to the sitting room, while I go pick up Dora and Corvus from the kitchen?"

"All right. I will see what I can do."

A couple of minutes later saw them all assembled in the sitting room, with a cheery blaze going in the fire-place to combat the moist chill left by the earlier rain. The locket had been banished to one end of the room, warded to the best of Severus' ability. Albus had then added his own touches, after examining it minutely. He couldn't help notice that the old man's behaviour seemed unexpectedly skittish. Severus also did not like the way the headmaster kept glancing at Corvus, who had taken the farthest possible position across the room from the locket. His son appeared rather skittish and unsettled as well, but given his earlier reaction that at least was understandable. Albus, on the other hand … wasn't.

"So what do you want to do first? Try to open it, or question the elf about it?" Moody asked bluntly. Severus was secretly glad the old curmudgeon was present. Albus would find it much harder to hide anything under the ex-Auror's discerning eyes. Because the headmaster did know something, he was increasingly sure of that.

"I think we should start with the elf," Albus decided after a few moments of deliberation. "Since we have no idea what will happen if we open it. He might tell us something so we know what to expect."

"Very well. Black, you will have to call the wretched creature," Mad-eye barked, making little urging notions with his hands. It seemed the man was most eager to get to the bottom of this mystery. Or else simply impatient.

"All right," Corvus agreed, though his expression was one of distaste. Which was odd, given how well he got on with the other elves. Until Severus remembered it had been Kreacher's lies which had led his son to believe Sirius Black had been taken by the Dark Lord. In that context, the dislike made perfect sense. "Kreacher!"

None of them gave any outward reaction to the crack which heralded the arrival of the old house-elf, still dressed in a dirty tea-towel. Clearly the elves at Hogwarts had not managed to get him to clean himself up, either.

"Master called," the elf muttered sullenly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"Look at me," the boy said grimly, getting up and taking a stance before the miserable being.

Who seemed most unwilling to follow the command, but follow it he did. Slowly. And then he gave a visible double-take. "Master?" he croaked, his eyes suddenly wide and uncomprehending.

"Do you know who I am, Kreacher?"

"No, Master. But Master is being a Black, Kreacher knows that much," he mumbled, and there was something oddly hopeful in his voice.

"I am Corvus Black, the son of Bellatrix Black," Corvus declared stiffly, and once more obvious distaste ghosted across his features. Severus was proud to see his son's expression smooth over again immediately, into a mask of perfect indifference. "I am also the new Lord Black. Therefore you will follow my command, Kreacher, to the letter."

"Kreacher will do what Mistress Bellatrix' son commands," the elf crowed, sounding quite happy all of a sudden. Which of course was entirely the wrong response to give to his son.

"_Never_ call me that! My mother has betrayed the family. She has brought nothing but sorrow and shame to it. For she is a kin-slayer, who cares about neither laws nor oaths. I would cast her out of the family if I could," the young man spoke harshly, glaring down at the old elf. "And I command you to never follow her orders again! Nor will you answer her summons if she should call for you."

"Yes … yes, Master Black," Kreacher stuttered, back to cowering in wide-eyed shock.

"The same goes for Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. Walburga Black's portrait, as well," Corvus added after a moment of thought, casting a look at them which clearly asked if he had forgotten anybody. "In fact, for now you will not communicate with anybody without my express permission. You answer to my orders only, am I clear?"

"Kreacher has understood, Master Black. Kreacher will do as Master says."

"Good. Now ..." the boy drew a deep breath, raising his hand to point towards the locket residing on a sideboard across the room. "Can you tell us anything about this locket? Winky said she found it with your things."

"Master Regulus' locket …" the elf gasped at seeing the thing, and he appeared abruptly ... broken. "They have found old Master's locket. Kreacher must … must ..." he descended into unintelligible muttering, starting to wrench at his ears in agitation.

"Stop that!" Corvus ordered him urgently. "You will not hurt yourself. But you will tell us about the locket, Kreacher. You _must_ tell us. It is clearly not a nice thing … so what did Regulus want you to do with it? Where did he get it from?"

"Master Regulus, he ..." there were suddenly, unexpectedly tears in the miserable creature's eyes. "He took it from the Dark Lord. Good Master Regulus died for the locket. Sent Kreacher away with it, Master Regulus did. Ordered him to destroy it, but Kreacher could not. Could not. It was too strong. Too evil. And good Master Regulus was lost because he wanted Kreacher to do this. Kreacher could not save him," he continued in a sorrowful wail. "Could not destroy it, either! Kreacher has failed!"

"Kreacher?" the boy asked, clearly bewildered by the sudden change in the elf, who appeared to be caught in a bout of abject misery. His voice then turned soft and gentle, like he usually talked to little Winky. "Calm down. And then you will tell us the whole story. About what Regulus Black did, and everything you know about this locket. Perhaps we can help you fulfil his wish and destroy it."

"New Master Black would do that?" the elf croaked, raising his tear-stained face to look at Corvus hopefully.

"Yes," his son agreed gravely. "I can tell it is a bad thing. But first we need to know _everything_. Will you tell us, please?"

And the old elf told his harrowing tale, which did nothing to diminish their bad feelings, even though it painted an unexpected new picture of Regulus Black, traitor to the Dark Lord.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"I do not believe we should try to open the locket right this moment, since at present we lack the means to destroy it," Dumbledore stated sombrely after they had heard the elf's most astonishing story. "However, Kreacher has managed to confirm my suspicion of what this locket is ..."

"And will you tell us your suspicion, too?" Moody interrupted him impatiently.

"I really shouldn't, Alastor, this is most sensitive information," the headmaster protested.

"That won't work, Albus, not this time," Mad-eye burst out, rising to his feet in agitation. "Inferi! If You-know-who went to such lengths to hide this thing, surely this is too big for one man's shoulders, even if those shoulders are yours! What if something should happen to you, would you leave us all in the dark? Simply because you like keeping your little secrets? Or fricking huge secrets in this case, I'm willing to bet."

"This is truly not something any of you should know about," Albus continued, although he clearly realised he would not get far with that argument, seeing as it utterly lacked any reason or explanation. And the old man knew it. Just as he must be aware his usual tricks of obfuscation would not work against so many of them, all of them unwilling to be left in the dark.

But he also obviously did not like it.

"So? All it needs is one slip-up on your part, or someone betraying you, and poof, we not only lose you, but your knowledge as well! You can't keep this to yourself, if it's that important. You aren't immortal, Albus! Nor do you always know what is best, or recognise the signs when something is wrong. Stop deluding yourself," Moody told the old man harshly.

"Need I remind you the Dark Lord wants you dead very much indeed, headmaster?" Severus threw in quietly, staring calmly back into the blue eyes when they came to regard him. "You know perfectly well everybody here can be trusted, and would rather die than let important information fall into the wrong hands. If you so desire, we will take any oath you deem necessary to shield whatever knowledge you have relevant to this," he indicated the locket with a flick of his fingers. "In times like these, keeping secrets may be important … but also incredibly, foolishly risky. Do you really wish to take that risk?" he challenged, refusing to back down from the old wizard's stare.

"Additionally you surely realise half-knowledge is the most dangerous kind of them all, and all of us here have learned enough to piece together some conclusion on our own. A conclusion which may turn out to be the very truth you seek to hide, or else something quite erroneous. And you should also realise what terrible results _that_ may produce," he concluded, folding his hands primly while his eyes flicked minutely towards his son.

Dumbledore had the grace to look guilty. Because if the old man had only told the boy what they were guarding in the Department of Mysteries, and the real reason why he had to learn Occlumency, that day might have had a different outcome.

"Any oath, Albus," Severus simply repeated. "Do not forget you need us to trust you, too."

The old man folded at that.

"I will require such an oath," he warned with a heavy sigh, looking every single one of his many years. "And while you may want to know about the locket now … I can assure you that you will wish afterwards you hadn't."

"That may well be," he replied evenly, concentrating on upholding his calm front. "However, it does not change the necessity for you to share your knowledge."

"Very well. I am, however, still not convinced it is advisable for our two youngsters to hear this ..."

"Do I have to repeat my earlier arguments, Albus? Since Corvus reacted so very strongly to the locket, I am convinced he _needs_ to know this," Severus pointed out, and he had to admit the almost hero-worship which flashed over his son's face gave him a lovely warm feeling inside.

The reaction was understandable, however, given how much the boy had suffered from being frequently left in the dark. Viewing his son's memories while creating the _Fidelius_ had certainly made Severus well aware of that fact. It was far too late to shield Corvus by leaving him ignorant. It was far better to arm him with knowledge, no matter how horrifying it might be.

"As for Miss Tonks … you already trust her with Corvus' secrets. It is also her chosen profession to deal with horrible, dark facts. Trust, Albus. That is what it comes down to. Do you trust us? Do you trust in our integrity, our dedication and our capability?"

"I still believe it inadvisable, yet you spin a good argument, Severus. Like always. In truth, I had a close escape this very summer, in dealing with another one of these things," the old man admitted reluctantly, averting his eyes. "It sits ill with me, but … you may well be right. Because if I cannot trust in the lot of you, I dare say I may not trust anybody."

"Too damn right!" Moody growled. "As for Tonks here, I wouldn't have picked her for a protégé if I didn't think she had what it takes."

"Why thank you, Mad-eye," the witch in question threw in, preening under the compliment. "Besides I knew I was in for serious stuff when I agreed to this, headmaster. And I believe I can be damn useful, too … or how many other Metamorphmagi do you know?"

"Quite right, Nymphadora," Dumbledore agreed, smiling slightly at her displeased glare. "As for Corvus, I must admit I was highly impressed with how you handled yourself so far, dear boy. In a way I dare say I even owe you this, since withholding the Prophecy from you helped bring about such irreparable harm to you. Most especially since this," he gestured towards the locket. "Is linked to the Prophecy in a way, you see."

"Ehm, how?"

"It is the reason, or rather one more of the reasons I should say, why Voldemort did not truly die," Albus declared solemnly, all trace of a twinkle gone from his eyes. "Why in fact, at present he cannot truly die. This, my friends and fellow conspirators, is one of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes."

.

oOoOoOoOo

Towards the evening, Corvus found himself still reeling from the exposition on Horcruxes Dumbledore had given them, since none of them had any great knowledge of these vile … things, if they had any at all. After all, why would any sensible, normal person want to know of something so foul and abhorrent? To tear your soul in pieces and force those into objects, leaving behind parts of yourself … it was simply too horrible to contemplate. And to do this not only once, but at the very least three times … it was no wonder Voldemort had turned into such an inhuman monster.

He refused to think about the implication for now, how it made Voldemort virtually immortal. Unless they managed to find all the pieces, and destroy them. Eventually he would have to, but … not now. Not today.

But what a day. He had already thought it extraordinary when they had wanted him to learn wand-less casting. However, that had easily been overshadowed by Winky showing up with the horrible locket, and even further so by Kreacher's harrowing story. The elf's tale about a watery cave full of Inferi, and a terrible potion, and how Regulus had been dragged under the water by the undead, had been terrifying and saddening in equal parts.

They had learned the truth about how Sirius' brother had met his sorry end, while trying to do what was right. Of course, it would have been better if he'd given the information to Dumbledore instead, but Corvus could understand why he might not have considered that an option. Trust was not something one learned in a family like the Blacks, much less serving someone like Voldemort. And Dumbledore had never given the Slytherins much reason to believe he cared about them. He still didn't, in all honesty.

That was something else which needed changing. However, Corvus would soon be in an excellent position to hopefully do something about it.

One of many things which needed doing. Really just a minor thing, compared to the rest. Because Dumbledore was convinced there were likely more of those abominations out there. Which definitely was the crowning glory of the day. However, he'd managed not to freak out and instead had participated in the planning part, which came after they had all digested the fact of Voldemort having multiple Horcruxes anchoring him to life.

Admittedly those plans largely put Corvus on the sideline, while still keeping him somewhat involved. Which, in all honesty, he was okay with. The adults were far better trained, as well as experienced and capable than him. He was hardly in the same category as even Moody or his father, much less someone like the headmaster.

So Dumbledore would team up with Mad-eye to go on the hunt for further information in the outside world, using both their considerable contacts and resources. Remus meanwhile had been detailed to go through the Black library, which might conceivably offer some help on a different front. Apparently, the family had always had a great interest in soul and spirit magics. So there might be something useful there. Snape, of course, had to go back to his teaching duties, which would take up most of his time. But his sideline of spying would allow him to subtly fish for information amongst the Death Eaters. After all, it was entirely possible one of them had hidden another Horcrux for their master.

As for Corvus himself … well, he had to establish his new identity at Hogwarts, with the help of Dora. And there would be more training. As well as hopefully interfering a bit with the recruiting base Voldemort had going in Slytherin. And yet more training. Not to forget simply taking classes, and doing homework. For some reason his father had also given him a thoughtful look and decided he ought to step up the Occlumency training. And well, if he got any ideas or insights, he could always pass them along to the others.

He really didn't have to do everything himself, because unlike Harry he had several adults to work with.

Together with Dora and his father they'd also planned a discreet search of the school itself. For starters, there was the Chamber of Secrets, which had never been properly investigated. Riddle might have hidden something in the Slytherin quarters as well, or at least left some clues there. It was certainly worth looking into. So altogether, they were splitting up the tasks in an entirely reasonable manner. Which meant he felt included, and yet would not be thrown into harms way, as somehow had always happened in the past. Of course, it might happen anyway, but …

He had this highly protective parent now.

However, that was not the only silver lining to the situation. Because when Snape had argued with the headmaster for Corvus' inclusion, he'd felt a sudden fierce admiration for the man, which had settled into a warm glow whenever he thought about it. It was simply because right there was someone willing to fight for him. Someone who worried about him, and clearly cared, but would not smother him and treat him like a little kid either, like Mrs. Weasley would have. If the situation had allowed it, he'd probably have gone up to his father and hugged him and thanked him profusely.

All in all, it was likely better he hadn't, though. He was pretty sure he would have made Snape very uncomfortable doing that in front of the others. And it would have made Corvus look like a little kid, which was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

Another positive consequence had, amazingly, been Kreacher. Once they swore to him they would take care of the locket and destroy it, the elf had become a different person almost instantly. It seemed simply shifting the burden of responsibility from his frail shoulders was enough for Kreacher. Well, he was still old, and possibly not entirely there in the head, but the difference otherwise! It was astonishing. The elf at least had no problem in tearfully hugging Corvus' legs while thanking him profusely. He also swore to be a good elf from now on, and clean himself up, and clean everything else, too!

He worried a bit how dear little Winky would deal with both the company and the competition, but it was a big house to clean. And come September, he might take one of them along to Hogwarts. As a guard, and a spy, and well, there was plenty of work there during the term to keep another elf busy.

As for the actual destruction of the Horcrux … that topic had sparked quite a heated debate. Moody had argued for its immediate disposal, but in the end Dumbledore had prevailed. They would hold onto the locket for the time being, allowing them time to study it. Maybe they could even find a way to link it to any other surviving Horcruxes, and thereby locate them. Corvus himself appeared to be almost a sort of detector for them, now that he knew what had caused his peculiar reaction, but for that he needed to be rather close to an unshielded one.

Which frankly, he wasn't really eager to do.

Aside from the opportunity to study it further, there was also the worry that Voldemort might be able to sense the destruction. He seemed not to have noticed the first two, but they didn't want to risk it. So instead, it was to be hidden in a secret, strongly warded vault within the headmaster's tower. Accessible only through Dumbledore's quarters, and well away from the the student population, it would allow them access while making it unlikely Voldemort could ever get it back.

Learning about this vault made Corvus wonder about the absurd 'security' for the Philosopher's stone, though. The more he thought about it, the more it looked like a trap instead. With the stone as bait. And possibly, Harry as well. He gave Dumbledore a hard look at the thought, until he considered the headmaster had most likely not been aware of how far Voldemort's possession of Quirrell had gone. He'd surely assumed he was simply dealing with a normal wizard collaborating with the Dark Lord. Not that … monstrosity.

Still, it once again confirmed the fact Dumbledore didn't know everything, and made mistakes just like everybody else. Mistakes which were sometimes made even worse thanks to his complicated plans. But real life simply wasn't a chess game, where the rules made for predictable moves. You could never plan for everything real, thinking people might come up with. Unlike with chess, there were few limits to what was possible. Most of all when the enemy was a wizard who wasn't entirely sane, and quite without scruples. Or when there was interference from some kids who didn't behave logical either. Especially when they were working with incomplete or false information.

After all, they had thought it was _Snape_ who was after the stone. Not Voldemort himself, possessing a different teacher. It was sheer, blind luck Harry had survived that night. In particular because Lily's protection shouldn't even have worked. Even though her sacrifice was perfectly genuine, the supposed blood connection through Petunia which was meant to keep it alive simply wasn't. But apparently the mere belief that it existed had been enough somehow. However, he certainly couldn't count on it for the future anymore.

But anyway, that was all in the past. Thankfully, due to the way they had found _this_ Horcrux, Dumbledore had caved and let them in on the secret. Which meant that instead of the old wizard working on this all by himself, besides his many other duties, there were now several people involved with searching for more of the abominations.

If there were more in the first place, which they couldn't be sure of. Or as Moody put it: 'They might well be chasing snitches that had long been caught'. However, they had to assume there were more, and search as best as they could. Meanwhile the Order would shift its priority into attempting to weaken Voldemort and his forces, so they might eventually take the fight to the monster.

For as Snape pointed out coldly, why not dispose of the Dark Lord anyway? Of course, while he still had Horcruxes he could potentially return, but it would nevertheless mean he would be gone for now. Which meant he would be unable to interfere or gather more support. Nor could he keep them from finding his remaining soul-anchors while he was disembodied. Not to forget there was a chance they might find a way to bind his spirit, even if they never found them all. Dumbledore had looked somewhat crestfallen at that proposal, and admitted to once again getting caught up in thinking too complicated.

Sometimes it really wasn't about choosing between right and easy, but instead between the perfect, and possibly unachievable solution, and a flawed, yet actually manageable one.

.

oOoOoOoOo

"It does explain why the Dark Lord seems so … damaged. I had put it down to his former disembodied state, but this makes far more sense in explaining his decline. He has rent his soul far too often now," Severus stated glumly, pausing in his restless pacing before the headmaster's desk.

It was a stark reminder just how evil the Dark Lord really was. How far he was willing to go in his quest for power, dominance and immortality. And that he held nothing sacred. Not even the sanctity of his own soul.

"Yes, indeed. It also explains why the brilliance of Tom Riddle and his ability to manipulate people through sheer force of charm and personality has diminished so much over time. Every time he created one of them, he lost a bit more of himself. Something which I am not sure he even realises himself … or else it simply does not matter to him anymore," Dumbledore agreed gravely. "In a way it is sad … to see such potential go to waste."

Severus snorted. "I am afraid my sympathy in this case is solely with his victims. He might have wasted his own potential, but he sure as hell destroyed even more in other people!"

The headmaster looked old and weary as he nodded in agreement. "Of course, Severus, of course. And even as a child, he was … twisted. Perhaps if he had grown up happily … but I digress. What really matters is that he indeed created several Horcruxes … and that he cannot fully die until they all have been found and destroyed."

"I know. We discussed this in quite sufficient detail earlier. In fact, I do not see the point in going over this yet again," he said, feeling rather irritated.

"Well, I fear there is something else about this I need to discuss with you ..."

"There is? Spit it out then, old man. I have little patience left tonight!"

"Indulge me, I beg you, my friend. This is not easy for me to talk about. For one, I dislike having to disclose a fear I have nurtured close to my breast for far too long … and for the other … you will not like this."

"And yet you actually intend to tell me?"

"Yes. If anyone should know of this … it would be you."

"Because I am your spy?"

"No. Because you are the father of the Boy-who-lived," Dumbledore explained, with a wry twist to his mouth.

"What does _Corvus_ have to do with this?" Severus spat, stressing his son's name.

Because today, of all days, he did not want to be reminded of the reason for the boy's fame. Or of whatever linked him to the Dark Lord. Besides, he had plenty of shocks and life-shattering revelations already. Like the one about poor Regulus. If only his friend had confided in him … together they would surely have survived that cave of traps. As for the Horcruxes … if he had never learned of the existence of something so foul and unnatural, it would have been far preferable.

"Have you forgotten the Prophecy, Severus?"

"So? Do not dare to tell me that because Corvus is … possibly … fated to be the Dark Lord's ultimate downfall, you somehow expected him to deal with this all by himself? Perhaps with just his two old side-kicks for help, like in the past?" he asked sarcastically, glaring at the old man. Frankly he wouldn't put it past the headmaster to come up with an asinine plan just like that.

"No … well, I fear he will have to be involved closely at times," Dumbledore admitted with an uneasy gesture of his hand. "But that is not all. You see, I have been harbouring a horrible suspicion for a while now … which has been all but confirmed today."

"Stop prevaricating then and tell me," Severus snapped impatiently, giving the other wizard a hard look.

"I am talking about the unfortunately strong likelihood your son is a Horcrux as well."

"No!"

But this horrified outburst was only met with a downcast look and a sorrowful expression on the headmaster's face.

"You cannot truly believe this, Albus!"

"There are too many indications to ignore anymore, my friend. I fear there is little chance left I am wrong."

_Of course_ there were plenty of indications. From the mysteriously acquired Parseltongue, to a hurting curse-scar, which was likely not only a scar at all, to a connection between them which appeared all but unblockable … and then there was that accursed Prophecy. Add the strong reaction the boy had displayed to the Horcrux today, and he could indeed see where Albus was coming from. Severus lowered his head in defeat, hiding his distress behind a curtain of dark hair.

"That is what the Prophecy really is about, isn't it? Why he cannot escape … even if he ran away, with that left to anchor him, the Dark Lord cannot be fully defeated … and would surely continue to haunt Corvus' life."

"Yes," the headmaster simply agreed, and the sorrow in his voice matched the one burrowing painfully in Severus' chest.

.

oOoOoOoOo

AN: As far as I am concerned, the Horcrux should still be at Grimmauld Place at this point, as it was 'rescued' from Mrs. Weasley's cleaning frenzy by Kreacher. However, since Remus and Corvus started living there soon after the start of the holidays, Mundungus Fletcher never got any opportunity to liberate it. One of the main reasons I included Winky in this story was for her to discover it while cleaning up the place. And well, she is cute. Plus she totally deserved a nice new master like Corvus.

If you wonder why Dumbledore would share his suspicion about Horcrux Corvus with Severus without being forced to … well, he needs to prepare the man to eventually accept the possibility his son might have to die. Which Snape would never agree to, unless he had first exhaustively looked for alternatives. So to give him that time, and maybe even find one, Dumbledore decides to tell him now. After all, the Horcrux-cat is out of the bag for good anyway. And I dare say the headmaster would prefer another solution which didn't involve Corvus dying as well. However, this solution will most definitely not be the Goblins Deus ex machina which is quite popular in fan-fiction, so please do not suggest it.

Anyway look, new chapter! Horribly long chapter, too. It was a real monster to proof-read. But admit it, none of you saw this one coming! Everybody was probably expecting the meeting with the Greengrass family next. However, this chapter is one I had planned at this point from the start, as it sets in motion the 'proper' plot of getting rid of Voldemort and his Horcruxes. So far, most of the story has been about Harry slowly transforming into Corvus, and dealing with various people while wrestling with the change. Which will of course continue, but increasingly less so as Corvus settles into his new role.

Since this note is already quite long, just a quick recommendation or two: One is 'Dead Man Walking' by cywscross, where a not-dead-after-all Regulus Black turns Harry rather more Slytherin on the sly. The other is 'Behind Doors and Masks' by dragonwriter24cmf, which features an interesting mentor relationship between Neville and headmaster Snape during that horrible seventh year.

And finally, as always, many thanks for your reviews. It is heartening to see people agree with what I am doing, and liking it, and paying attention to all the details, and even complimenting me *blushes and looks awkward*. Unfortunately it didn't help with my updating speed, but … don't give up hope, I might get better! Admittedly this time I was also delayed by starting to post another story about Minerva and Severus, which you might want to check out if you like resorting stories. *end of shameless self-advertising


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